harmonize
by xStarxWolfx
Summary: harmonize: verb; 1. to bring into harmony, accord, or agreement. Shinigami and Spirit, Meister and Weapon, Death and his Scythe. A collection of oneshots centered around the lord of death and his best friend. No slash, human!Shinigami.
1. Rise and Shine

_Distant flickering, it's greener scenery.__  
__This weather's bringing it all back again.__  
__Great adventures, faces and condensation.__  
__I'm going outside and take it all in._

_You say too late to start, got your heart in a headlock,__  
__I don't believe any of it._

_**We're a different pair, just something out of step.**_

==Harmonization==

"Rise and shii~ine! Up and at 'em, partner!" The high-pitched and somewhat nasally (though admittedly less so in this form) voice floated to the redhead's eras and sliced his eardrums open. Groaning loudly, the aforementioned pressed a few particular soft pillows to his ears, hoping to block out the sound for a few more minutes. Unfortunately for him, the voice didn't give up so easily.

"C'mon, Spirit-kun! It's time to get up! Wakey, wakey!" The man named Spirit let out another groan as the bed dipped heavily near his legs and the old wooden bed frame creaked with the added weight. Spirit heard the thin sheets barely covering his body fluttering with the intrusion. The pressure on the mattress was lifted only for a moment before coming down again, hard. This inconsistency continued, along with the nasally commands that Spirit ignored. The wood screeched in protest, taking a mallet to Spirit's temple and pounding away. He groaned his loudest groan yet and pressed the pillows closer to his ears.

"Drinking the last night of summer away, huh? That's so like you," the nasally voice noted, unimpressed. Spirit flinched as something hard and rounded collided with the crown of his head. Sighing, his shoulders slumping as he did, he turned over with much difficulty and opened his bleary eyes.

It took Spirit a few seconds for his eyes to sharpen the image of the warm but currently apathetic yellow eyes of his meister in human form. The latter went by many names, but nowadays he liked to be addressed by Shinigami. The "-sama" was only a term of respect; after all, his meister had lived hundreds upon thousands of years, protecting the world and keeping the balance between good and evil. He was very powerful and very important; even if he didn't act like it sometimes. No, scratch "sometimes"- he was infamous for _frequently_ acting comical. This was definitely one of those times, Spirit mused as he took in the sight of Shinigami standing next to him and bending down to look his scythe in the eye. He had a wooden spoon in his hand (which was used to hit him with, Spirit realized) which was planted on his hip. On his other hip was another hand holding a pan. Spirit took one look at his meister, then rolled over on his stomach once more, planting his face in his pillow.

"Don't fall back asleep!" Shinigami scolded, resisting the urge to give his Weapon a chop to the head. Instead, he decided on a different form of torture. Jumping off the bed, Shinigami brought the black pan carefully close to Spirit's delicate human ear. Then he pulled it away, only to bash on it with his wooden spoon. "GET UP GET UP GET UP GET UP!" he yelled, slamming the spoon on the pan with all his shinigami strength (but without bending the spoon or pan). Spirit stiffened considerably, causing Shinigami to slow down his beating, eventually coming to a stop. He blinked as the redhead slowly turned his head.

Spirit's green-blue eyes were the fieriest the death god had ever seen (and he had been through many a Maka Rants) and his expression screamed murder. "I'm going to kill you."

Shinigami stepped back a few paces, still grinning. "Uh oh."

"_**SHINIGAMI!"**_

One loud crash later, Shinigami stumbled out of the messy room and into the hallway, his traditional black shoes fumbling for grip on the slippery rug that had been placed there. After slipping the rug a few feet backwards, he continued to sprint through the hall, Death Scythe hot on his tail. He dashed through the kitchen, putting his foot out and sliding behind the kitchen table.

Spirit stopped short, the table now the only thing between him and that damned death god. He moved to the right, only for Shinigami to counter by darting to the left. Then they did the opposite, Spirit moving to the left to have Shinigami move to the right. The two stood there, backs bent and hands clutching the backs of chairs, as a tense silence filled the air.

Finally, Spirit hatched an idea. He gripped the backs of the chairs tighter for moment, then, using them as leverage, he jumped across the table. The two chairs fell back, clattering on the floor. Shinigami hit the floor as well, grunting in pain as Spirit landed on his midsection. The scythe ignored this, instead choosing to pinch Shinigami's cheeks and stretch them out, deforming the god's face. "Say you're sorry!" Spirit teased.

"Eeffer," Shinigami retorted through his teeth, straining to get away. His hands came up to push Spirit's face away, but the weapon remained stubborn, gritting his teeth against the strong hands applying pressure to his face. The two clashed for dominance.

This was Death and his Scythe. If Shinigami was Death, it would be unacceptable for Spirit to even touch the god, seeing as he was but a tool, a weapon at Shinigami's disposal. They would not even live together, would not talk, would only understand each other enough to resonate.

But Shinigami wasn't Death. Not anymore. Shinigami was Shinigami, so, just like other weapons and meisters, the two shared an apartment together. Sure, with either of their statuses alone, they could afford a mansion- but Shinigami preferred living like real humans, and neither of them were home a whole lot anyway. They talked often; usually it was Spirit babbling on and on about his precious Maka, or Shinigami ranting about something or another (Spirit was starting to think he only did so to flaunt his superior intellect). They didn't just understand each other enough to resonate. They understood each other well, perfectly, each knowing how the other acted and lived. They worked flawlessly, together in perfect sync.

And because they understood each other so well, Spirit knew that Shinigami, despite his protests, actually wanted this. He wanted to live like someone other than just the harbinger of death, he wanted to eat and sing and dance, he wanted to love and cry and cherish. He just wanted to _feel._

In exchange, Shinigami was there for Spirit through the pain and tear-filled nights, keeping Spirit some company while the man cried himself to sleep, the weight of his burdens becoming too heavy for his all-too-human shoulders. Shinigami would lay his head back against the wall as the redhead curled up in bed, sniffles coming to a soft stop as sleep overcame him.

Yes, the two were closer than they appeared.

Neither could ask for it any other way.

/

I dunno, I got this idea last night and wanted to write about it. Fluffff. Compared to my last Shini/Spirit oneshot. LOL. Btw, the song in the beginning is "Headlock" by Imogen Heap (does anyone else _adore_ that song like I do?). I was going to put it there but it seemed to interrupt the flow of this story. If it has any flow. Idk, it was just sort of written on a whim. I was thinking of maybe making this into a oneshot series…what do you think? Reviews make me happy~


	2. You're the Coolest Partner

_Nothing's making sense at all.__  
__Wonder, why do we race?__  
__And every day we're running in circles.__  
__Such a funny way to fall._

___If nothing is true, __  
__what more can I do?_

_**I am still painting flowers for you.**_

===harmonize===

Maka sighed, collecting her thoughts. She lifted Soul one more. She had dragged Soul out here in the forest to help train her Demon Hunter. So far, she only succeeded once- naturally, she wanted to practice it until it was perfect. Soul was getting restless, but Maka ignored him.

"_**HEXAGONAL HUNTING!"**_

She was just about to initiate the resonance when a scream followed by a loud blast shook the ground. She quickly pinpointed where it had come from, and sensed a soul there. Closer inspection told her it was her father's soul. Grimacing, she considered just not doing anything. Soul quickly squashed that thought. "We should check it out. He might be in trouble."

Huffing (but knowing Soul was right), she let Soul transform back into human form and ran in the direction of the noise, the weapon following close behind. Eventually, she came to a clearing. She gasped, looking around. The trees were splintered in half, the grass was burnt to a crisp, and there was a long ditch stretching from the center of the clearing to the stream in the distance, from where an attack had most likely hit it. In the middle of the clearing, she saw two figures lying on their backs. One had red hair and brown and green dress clothes- her father. She could easily sense his soul. The other- dressed in a black cloak- she could sense no soul from him. Huh, that's weird; the only soul she couldn't sense was-

As if on cue, the mysterious man straightened into a sitting position. His deep golden eyes were bored and emotionless as he looked around. Maka and Soul quickly hid themselves behind a tree before he could spot them. Then he got to his feet and stood behind Spirit, folding his arms and waiting. Spirit slowly came to, straightening and rubbing the back of his head as he groaned.

_Bam! _The side of the man's hand came down hard on Spirit's head. The latter immediately fell.

A few seconds later, he got up again, rubbing his head even harder. "What was that for!" he demanded, glaring at the man with three complete white stripes in his hair.

"This is your fault," the other replied emotionlessly, glancing at a nearby tree. "Do it right next time."

"How is this _my _fault?"

"You couldn't keep up with my wavelength."

"_No one can_ when you go death god like that! I'm a mere mortal, remember? How you don't destroy the entire forest, I'll never know!"

The other man had no reply, but only frowned and looked away.

"This guy…" Soul trailed off.

"Yeah. He's Shinigami-sama," Maka answered.

Shinigami extended his hand. "Again," he ordered.

"Again!" Spirit complained. "We've been at it for an hour already!"

"Shut up and transform already," the god replied, quickly becoming impatient. If Spirit didn't transform right now, he'd be forced to, well, _force_ him into weapon form- something Shinigami didn't like doing and wanted to avoid if possible.

The scythe huffed, obviously wanting to make this difficult. "Can't I have a break? C'mon, I'm only human!"

Shinigami gritted his teeth, fingers curling in irritation. He suppressed the wild urge to furiously chop the scythe. "One more resonance, then we'll take a break," he forced through his teeth.

"Fine," Spirit sighed, secretly happy with this deal. He glowed brightly, morphing his body into the familiar curved weapon. Shinigami caught him with the hands of thousands of years of experience. When Spirit really thought about it, he was just_ another scythe_ for Shinigami to use over his lifetime. He had wielded hundreds of scythes, living or otherwise. Spirit was even more insignificant in that view. When he saw Shinigami's bright and smiling face, he couldn't help but wonder what the man really thought of him. Was he just another scythe in his inhuman yellow eyes?

Shinigami spun Spirit in his hands, waiting for the weapon form to stabilize. When it did, Shinigami swung the scythe, cutting the air.

"Let's go, _Soul Resonance!" _the two cried together, feeling their souls spark as they resonated.

This was the Resonance of the Souls, when Meister and Weapon harmonize. The meister passes soul waves to the weapon. The weapon amplifies them and sends them back. Together, they can create a soul wavelength greater than either of them alone.

Shinigami kept a tight lid on his power, as Spirit had complained about it previously. Matching soul waves with a mortal weapon was frustrating if your natural soul wavelength was much more powerful, but Shinigami managed. He always managed, ever shifting his shape and form to fit his current surroundings.

Blue soul waves erupted from the pair, causing the trees to shake and quiver. Maka and Soul had to shield themselves from the powerful energy that ripped through the air. Maka gasped in wonder as Shinigami lifted her father's blade behind his shoulder.

"The legendary super skill of the scythe meister!" Shinigami called out as the black blade transformed into a bright blue one. It closely resembled the moon that drooled blood. He started to swing the scythe.

"_WITCH HUNT_-"

Spirit gasped, starting. "Maka-chan!"

"Hah?" Shinigami blinked, thrown off by Spirit's distraction. His focus gone, his black shoes slid on the grass and he lost his balance. His scythe slipped out of his hands and flew away, spinning through the air as the god fell. Shinigami's leg gave out under him, and he winced as he landed on the hard ground face first. Spirit clattered to the ground, shifting out of weapon form. He groaned loudly. That didn't last long, however, because as soon as Shinigami spotted him, the latter got to his feet and delivered a hard chop to Spirit's skull.

"_Nice!_" Shinigami yelled, his fists clenched in anger. "This is all your fault!"

"Ouch! I'm sorry!" Spirit apologized hastily, holding his head. Two Shinigami Chops a day were tough on his cranium. "But- Maka- how could I sense her soul?"

"You idiot," Shinigami snapped, only barely resisting the overwhelming urge to chop him again. "Haven't you learned anything in my school? You picked up Maka-chan's soul wavelength through the resonance with me."

Suddenly, the death god looked up, a serious look on his face. He stared right at Soul and Maka's hiding place. The latter two started and escaped behind the tree, but was it too late? Had Shinigami-sama seen them?

"You can come out you two, the game is up!" Yes, he had seen them.

Smiling nervously, Soul and Maka shuffled out from behind the tree, waving politely. Shinigami waved back, his face a careful but playful mask. Spirit wasn't so thrilled, seeing his precious daughter but with that octopus head of her partner.

"What are you two doing here?" Spirit asked in his most authoritative voice.

Maka grew even more nervous. She blushed deeply and wrung her hands together as she fumbled for an answer. Soul looked away, silent but just as anxious.

"It's fine."

Spirit turned to his meister with a questioning look. Shinigami shot him a grin in reply. "Maka-chan here just wanted to see more advanced scythe techniques. Right, Maka-chan?"

When looked at for an answer, Maka started. "Uh, y-yeah," she stuttered, confused but thankful that Shinigami-sama had covered for them. Spirit seemed to buy it, and said nothing more.

"Well, we're done training for today," Shinigami announced, stretching his arm out. "Why don't you two get home? It's getting late."

Agreeing, Soul and Maka said their goodbyes and turned to leave. The god watched them leave with curious golden eyes. A thought struck him as his gaze rested upon the white-haired boy. "Hey, Spirit-kun."

The redhead glanced over to him questioningly. "Yeah?"

Shinigami met his gaze with the same curious expression. His eyes narrowed as his mouth curled into a mischievous grin, teeth and all.

"You are the _coolest_ partner."

Spirit's eyes widened.

/

If you didn't get it, Spirit was resonating with Shinigami as he was worrying about just being another scythe. Since meister and weapon can read each other's minds during a resonance (as explained by Maka in episode 20), Spirit tapped into Shinigami's Soul Perception (since he was using it to sense Maka and Soul's souls) and Shinigami read his worried thoughts. Thus, at the end, Spirit figured out Shinigami had read his thoughts and he was surprised. Sorry if it didn't make much sense, but I wanted it to be a between-the-lines sort of thing.

Sorry if Shini pulled too much of a Soul at the end. I was thinking he got the idea from observing Soul but…yeah. I dunno, I thought it was cool.

Also, yes, I've decided to continue this into a one-shot series. I've been on a Shini/Spirit plus a writing kick lately, so this'll be my dump. DEAL WITH IT!

Song is Painting Flowers by All Time Low. Alice in Wonderland ftw?


	3. Get Well Soon

_If you're the bird__  
__Whenever we pretend it's summer__  
__Then I'm the worm__  
__I know the part, it's such a bummer_

_You and I left our troubles far behind__  
__But I still have just one more question on my mind_

_**With friends like these, well,**____**who needs enemies?**___

===harmonize==

In the late hours of the day, Death City residents can hear the moon laughing rhythmically as blood drooled out of its mouth. Some other children from different towns might find this disturbing, but the children from Death City thought it was just the way the moon always looked.

Inside a small apartment, a redheaded scythe lay on the couch, watching a mindless show on TV. He looked up as he heard the door creak open.

"Oh, hey. Welcome home," the scythe, Spirit, greeted. In the doorway stood his meister, the god of death. Something was off, however. His usually bright golden eyes were a dull yellow, and his expression seemed uncharacteristically tired. He sniffed.

"Hey," he replied, his nose sounding like it was stuffed up.

"You okay?" Spirit asked hesitantly.

"No." Another sniffle. "I think I caught Kid's cold." A sneeze.

"Well then, here, you should-" Spirit didn't have time to finish. He barely had enough time to rush over to the door and catch Shinigami as he suddenly collapsed. Spirit shifted him in his arms and felt the god's damp forehead. He quickly pulled his hand away, feeling a sharp sting.

"Wow, you're burning! Here, c'mon." Spirit helped Shinigami limp over to the couch, where he laid the shinigami carefully down. The latter moaned softly and curled up as the former walked over to the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. A few minutes of rummaging around later, he walked back into the living room and stuck a thermometer in Shinigami's mouth. The other glared at it.

"Whph foouh ish sish foinph fo doph?" Shinigami demanded, his question muffled by the stick between his lips.

"Shut up and stick it under your tongue," Spirit ordered, wringing out a washcloth in the sink. Shinigami made a grunt of irritation as he narrowed his eyes again. They flew open when a loud beeping sound filled the room. The scythe walked over and traded Shinigami the thermometer only to place a cool washcloth on his forehead. Shinigami moaned slightly and laid back into the pillows.

Spirit glanced at the number. "132 degrees? God, Shinigami, you should be dead!" The unimpressed glare the lord of death gave his scythe told Spirit the joke, intended or otherwise, wasn't appreciated in the slightest. "Doesn't your body prevent you from getting sick or something?"

"Special mutation," Shinigami explained in short answers rather than his usual lecture. "Powerful. Affects immortals. Namely, Kid and I. Don't worry, though. Not contagious to humans."

Spirit blinked. Leave it to Shinigami to know _exactly_ what was going on. "You should take off that heavy cloak of yours," he suggested.

Shinigami looked away stubbornly. "No."

"Don't make me take it off myself," Spirit threatened, raising a finger in warning. A cocked eyebrow from the death god told Spirit he wasn't going to budge. _Fine._

Spirit slowly sat next to his partner, ignoring how Shinigami inched away in reply. Instead, he made a fast grab for the black fabric covering Shinigami's torso, getting a good grip on it. Shinigami whined in protest and struggled to get away, but Spirit was faster. With some difficulty (cloaks should really come with zippers, Spirit grumbled), he managed to slip it over his meister's head. This left the latter in nothing but black pants and dress shoes. Wearing an annoyed but uncomfortable expression on his face, Shinigami folded his arms tightly over his now bare chest, blushing. "I feel so exposed," he muttered. He did feel a slightly bit better, however. Not that he would ever admit it.

"You're a man." Or a shinigami. Technicalities, who needs 'em? "Deal with it." With that, Spirit disappeared into the hall with the cursed cloak, only to come back with a thick blanket. Draping it over the reaper, Spirit murmured, "Want me to read you a bedtime story?"

A tired "shut up" was all he got in reply.

He chuckled as he made sure his meister was nice and comfortable.

"Spirit-kun?" came a mumble.

"Yeah?" When no answer came, Spirit stole a glance at the god. Shinigami was sound asleep, his chest rising and falling with each steady breath. The scythe smiled.

"You're welcome."

"Where do you think _you're_ going?"

Shinigami stopped in the doorway, just a second away from shifting into his playful shinigami form. He turned to his weapon, pointing at the door.

"Shibusen…?" It came out as more of a question.

"Oh, no ya don't." Spirit grabbed the reaper's shoulder and pushed him towards the couch. Shinigami blinked.

"But I—achoo!—who will run Shibusen?" he asked, still very exhausted from the cold.

"You just relax, I'll take care of everything." At this, yellow eyes snapped open. Shinigami made a break for the door, only to be block by Spirit. The scythe was not only using his body as a barrier, but was also holding Shinigami's arms back.

"You? Handle everything? My students are doomed!"

"Ha, ha, very funny," Spirit grumbled, pushing Shinigami with more force. Finally, they got to the couch, where Shinigami was shoved onto it.

"You stay in this apartment, or so help me Shinigami-sama, _I'll send Stein._"

This frightened Shinigami immensely, considering his tendency to sleep in this weakened state and the burning desire that Stein had to dissect a shinigami. He nodded furiously.

"Good."

The door closed.

Shinigami sighed, sliding further off the couch on his back. All the blood in his body was rushing to his head, but he ignored it. He was too preoccupied with his worries.

Spirit had come home at lunch to make the god some good old-fashioned chicken noodle soup. Naturally, Shinigami bombarded him with questions. ("Is everything okay? Stein hasn't dissected anyone, right? Did you remember to observe Kim-chan and Jackie-chan's mission? I noticed they've been having some problems resonating lately. Oh, I hope you didn't use my mirror just to stalk Maka-chan all day.") It was perhaps this last comment that caused Spirit to take much pleasure in answering a simple, "Everything's fine."

What could be happening at his precious academy? Knowing his weapon, there were probably scantily-clad woman dancing around everywhere. If that were the case, Shinigami saw lots of Maka Chops heading Soul's way.

He chuckled. Maka had developed her special chop at the precious age of five, when she witnessed Shinigami giving her father a well-aimed Shinigami Chop to the head. Since she was holding a book at that time, she modified her chop to include a hard-cover book for extra pain. Still, Shinigami could shout louder and hit harder, so Spirit got the shorter end of the stick here.

Shinigami sighed again. He was going to have to make it up to his students somehow.

Groaning, he slid off the couch and stumbled to his feet, regaining his balance. He wrapped the thick blanket around himself and trudged for the mirror in the hallway. Well, Spirit just said he couldn't leave _the apartment._

"Hey, hi, hello~!" Shinigami tittered, adopting his goofy voice. He sneezed before continuing. "Wassup, Stein-kun?"

The image of a confused Dr. Stein shimmered into view. The aforementioned blinked. "Shinigami-sama? Wow, I knew you were sick, but you look awful."

"Nice to see you too, Stein-kun," Shinigami deadpanned, his image blurring for a moment. Though it was true. The cold had taken quite a beating on the poor reaper. His dull golden eyes sported dark rings under them, his striped hair was sticking out in places, and his nose was still stuffed (not that it differed much from his regular nasally voice). He blinked tiredly. "Am I interrupting?"

"No, the students are dissecting fish today."

"Another dissection lab?" the death god asked, amused. "Have you ever considered teaching from the book every once in a while?"

Stein blinked. "Why would I do that?"

The other's eyes slid to the left. "Right…well, anyways, Stein-kun—Achoo!—I was just seeing if my school was still standing."

The scientist smiled. "We're doing fine, Shinigami-sama. You shouldn't worry so much."

Shinigami started. "I—I wasn't—achoo!—worried! My students are more than capable of handling themselves!" he snapped back hastily. Stein only kept smiling.

"Okay, so what if I was?" the other grumbled, pouting. "I mean, Spirit _is_ in charge."

Stein still had the smile on his face. "He's doing fine. See?" He turned the pocket mirror around, showing Shinigami Class Crescent Moon. "Say hi to Shinigami-sama, everyone!"

The class all looked up from their fish to wave to the death god, some still holding the dissection knife in their hands. A collective "hi" sounded out. Shinigami smiled and waved back, but just as he was about to greet them in his usual greeting, he sneezed. He leaned forward, groaning softly as his head pounded from nearly sneezing his brains out. Not to mention he was feeling awfully hot…he should lay down soon…but he couldn't until he made sure everyone was alright.

"Wow, Shinigami-sama looks miserable," Maka noted as Stein turned the mirror back around and told Shinigami to get some rest. He also mentioned something about "be careful you don't get your blood pressure to that of a normal human's," which the headmaster didn't find quite as humorous.

"I know what'll cheer 'im up!" Black Star declared, grabbing a pen. Maka watched, then smiled. "yeah, that's a great idea!"

"Whatcha got there, Santa Claus?" Shinigami asked, quirking an eyebrow as Spirit heaved himself through the door with a large sack on his back.

"Well enough to make snide remarks, I see," Spirit noted amusedly, lugging the sack into the living room and dropping it in front of the death god. "For your information, Mr. Funny, they're get well cards."

Shinigami blinked. "For me?"

"No, for me. Yes, for you! The whole school _mysteriously_ caught wind that you were sick and did this." Spirit let the fact that Shinigami had obviously checked up on him go when he saw Shinigami's smile slowly grow. He left the reaper alone, walking into the bathroom.

Reaching into the sack, Shinigami pulled out a bright blue letter that gave him a headache just from looking at it. He opened it,

_2 Sir,_

_HAH! I dun evn ned 2 cay 'gt wel son' cuz ull alradie b wel jus bi having dis leter!_

_-Black Star_

Included was two pictures: one of what Shinigami assumed to be his shinigami form with a sad face, then one of Black Star and him. He was smiling in this picture. Resisting the urge to vomit (but taking it as a good sign that Black Star could at least spell his own name right), Shinigami reached for another letter. He picked up Tsubaki's, who included an apology for Black Star's letter in her own, along with a get well soon message. The next two letters read:

_It's not cool to be sick. Get well soon._

_-Soul Eater_

_Sir,_

_I'm sorry to hear that you're sick. I hope you feel better soon!_

_-Maka Albarn_

_P.S. Once you get well again, give Papa a good Shinigami Chop!_

Shinigami smiled and pulled two more letters out as Spirit stuck the thermometer in his mouth again, this time taken without complaint.

_Sir,_

_I'm sorry you caught that cold from Kid! Somehow I feel like it's my fault. Feel better soon!_

_-Liz Thompson_

_P.S. Kid fell into an angry depression when he found out, so that means in Kid language, he's sorry too. He's getting better, though! ^^_

_Giraffes! Giraffes should make Shinigami-sama better! :D_

There was no signature, but Shinigami didn't need one. Giraffes meant Patty-chan. He clutched the letter to his heart.

He was definitely going to have to make it up to his students somehow.

/

Oh-ho, the sappiness overload! I was just going to leave it in one part (the first part) but then I decided I wanted a sweet Shinigami/his students moment. Because we get a lot of that from Marie (definitely Marie) and even Stein but no Shinigami, ha ha. We know Shinigami cares for his city (the weakness Asura saw in ep 24- don't even tell me, I know I'm obsessed) but we never really see Shinigami interacting with any of his students other than the three main meisters, one of them being his son, so natch. xDD

Also, Black Star can't read, so obviously he can't spell either xDD Except his own name, of course.

I stayed up 'til 1:45 in the morning writing this story. For you. Yes, I did this ALL FOR YOU so you better enjoy it. Hurrr. Also, reviews make me squee (which reminds me, thanks Roxxurz for teh review that I just got twenty minutes ago x] surprisingly well-written for 5 AM ;;;)

Song is "The Bird and the Worm" by Owl City, for those who didn't know. :3


	4. Revenge is Sweet

"_**DEAAAAATH!"**_

Shinigami gingerly held his skull-themed cell phone about four feet away from his body, his face twisted in a grimace. He slowly brought it back to his ear, holding it carefully.

"Shinigami," he corrected.

"**WHATEVER! IT DOESN'T MATTER! WHAT MATTERS IS THAT YOUR SON KISSED MY MAKA'S HAND!"** The reaper was again forced to hold the phone much farther away than it was intended to be. People at the café he was residing in were starting to stare, but he ignored them.

Bringing the phone closer to his ear again, Shinigami spoke calmly into the microphone. "How many times do I have to tell you, Spirit-kun? He was just being polite. It doesn't mean anything."

"How can you say it doesn't mean anything? _HE KISSED HER HAND! _He's probably making out with my little girl in some dark closet somewhere! Or even worse!" Spirit suddenly gasped, then started to scream in his loudest voice. **"SHINIGAMI! I DON'T CARE IF WE ARE FRIENDS IF YOUR SON KNOCKS UP MY PRECIOUS MAKA **_**I'LL KILL HIM!"**_ Shinigami could almost feel his incognito jacket and black hair ruffling with the winds of Spirit's outburst, despite the fact that they were three miles away from each other. That odd, strong desire to protect his son bubbled up.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait," Shinigami interjected. "Even if they _were_ dating, I doubt Kid would claim your daughter's innocence. He's far too polite for that." _Because he knows if he does, Spirit wouldn't be the only one he'd have to worry about,_ Shinigami added silently. He never used his Shinigami Chop for punishment against his son, but if his own flesh and blood ever did something stupid like that, Shinigami would kill him. He raised Kid better than that! His murderous thoughts were interrupted by his scythe's sigh.

"You're right. I guess it was just Kid being Kid. I'm sorry."

The god blinked, caught off guard by how quickly Spirit had gone from screaming his ear off to quietly apologizing. Well, his ear was thankful, at least. He stuck a finger in his ear and dug around in an attempt to stop the ringing.

"Um, well…okay then…"

The two fell into an uncomfortable silence. Shinigami was thinking of breaking the silence when Spirit beat him to it.

"Hey, sir, I have a…random question."

"Shoot."

"If Kid lost his shinigami powers and became human, would you still care about him?"

"Well…"

"What!" Spirit exclaimed. He couldn't believe his ears. He knew Shinigami was, well, a shinigami, and didn't always act like other humans, but he couldn't be _that_ heartless…could he?

"Of course I would. Human or shinigami, he's my still my son. What kind of question is that?" Shinigami replied smoothly.

"But why did you hesitate!"

"Ah, well, it's just," the reaper started, making a 'tch' noise at the back of his throat. He pulled his right leg up, his shoe resting against his left thigh. His expression grew unhappy. "The problem is that Kid has my old negative personality- minus the violent tendencies and deep, scary voice. It completely clashes against my new personality. I can count the number of times we've both agreed on something on one hand!" He extended his free hand to empathize his point, though there was no one to see. "The only time it seems I can ever really bond with him is over shinigami matters. If I didn't have that…I wouldn't know what to do."He finished his last sorrowful statement with a sigh.

"Yeah, I know how you feel…"

"Perhaps if you spent less time with women and more time with Maka-chan, she might actually like you."

Spirit sputtered incoherently.

Shinigami chuckled mischievously, golden eyes glinting.

Oh, revenge was sweet.

/

I don't like this one :/ I liked the beginning, but I wasn't sure how to end it and came up with this idea in the parking lot of the pizza shop. Yeah, don't ask. It was actually inspired by some fanfic I remember reading but can't remember the name. Also, can't be bothered to look it up either.

By the way, I know this series has WAYYY too much human!Shinigami for its own good, but shoot me; human!Shinigami is my bishie. I'm serious. Everything I draw nowadays has him. I'm hoping to drive all my obsession out of my system. But besides, the world needs more human!Shinigami *angry face, since doesn't like less than greater than things. Also, doesn't like dashed breaks, which is why previous story was so all-over-the-place : (*


	5. Asphyxiated Nightmares

_Fairy Blue, for you, I shatter the stars__  
__and use them to adorn the Black Paper Moon.__  
__Because you believed in me, when you're lost, here I am__  
__Forever with your soul._

_See you in your dreams, yeah baby,_  
_**Even if they are nightmares.**_

_**Asphyxiated Nightmares**_

"_Death lost to me because of his love for other people." -Asura_

It was quiet.

Dust lazily rolled over barren land, swirling and bumping against rocks and steel crosses. The pitch black paper moon hung in the sky of blood, giggling at the lifeless land. The wind whistles but brushed against only one person.

That person was a scythe, a Demon Weapon, the Weapon of the Grim Reaper himself. He had a shock of red hair and a confused expression plastered on his face. He glanced around the deserted area.

"Where am I?" he asked to no one, hoping that God or whatever deity was out there would speak to him in a holy voice, parting the violent red sky to replace it with the happy blue one. Like the one in the Death Room.

Like the one the God of Death liked so much.

He froze as the wind suddenly rushed past. Even as a Weapon, and, as such, without the ability to see souls, he could sense someone was behind him. He whipped around to see the familiar smiling face of his meister.

"Shinigami-sama," Spirit murmured, relieved. "What is this place? And how did you get here, anyway? Is this place in Death City?"

The calming smile was still etched onto the reaper's face. His long black bangs hid his alluring golden eyes from sight. Still smiling, he raised his left hand slowly, extending it towards his Scythe.

Spirit blinked, a little unnerved at his Meister's strange actions. Shinigami was peculiar, yes, but acting this way was odd even for him. Still, Spirit trusted him. He took a step forward.

"Stop!"

Spirit stopped and spun around to face...Shinigami. This Shinigami was different than the one Spirit was used to. Instead of the usual smiling, happy face of the reaper, this Shinigami's face was twisted in anger. Cold golden eyes were rolled back in fury. Sharp teeth gleamed from the scowl he was giving. He was wrapped in the same black cloak, but it was spikier than usual and much more menacing.

"Don't move, bastard!" he spat. "You piece of shit! You're nothing but a pig!"

The Scythe flinched. Sure, Shinigami was irritated often, and Spirit usually knew this by the Shinigami Chops he gave, but never had Shinigami lashed out at him in blind fury before. And quite frankly, he was a little frightened. But he assured himself, it was just Shinigami playing a trick on him. He'd get scary for one minute and then switch back to his energetic self.

Right?

Remembering the first Shinigami, Spirit turned back to the place where he had seen him. Shinigami was still there, smiling and extending his hand. Confused, he turned back to see the other Shinigami scowling menacingly. He turned around again, facing the first Shinigami. This one was looking a lot more pleasant.

As he started to move towards the smiling Shinigami, the angry one started to speak again. "Stop, you bastard! I'll skin you alive! I'll slice you to pieces! You're filthy! garbage! You're useless!"

Spirit became numb as the harsh words sunk in. As he dwelled on those thoughts, he found it hard to move. But the smiling Shinigami was so much more alluring. Spirit started to stumble towards the reaper.

"You fucking bastard!" the scowling Shinigami screamed. His cold golden eyes had shrunk as he lifted his head and continue to scream at his weapon. "You bastard! I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you and send you to hell! You bastard!"

The scythe's blue-green eyes, had too, gone wide. He tried not to take any of the insults or threats personally. He didn't know what was wrong with Shinigami. Why was he so angry? Is that what Shinigami really thought of him? He numbed out his feelings as he continued to stumble towards the smiling Shinigami. The Weapon raised his right hand.

"I'll kill you! I'll kill you!" It had become more of a chant than a threat, but Shinigami was becoming angrier and angrier by each line. In a flash, he appeared behind the smiling Shinigami, his teeth bared and his eyes murderous. "I'll kill you! I'll kill you!"

Spirit ignored him and, as he finally reached the smiling Shinigami, he placed his hand in the reaper's outstretched one. The silent Shinigami pulled the scythe close to him, his eyes still hidden by his bangs. He was still smiling.

"Don't be afraid, Spirit-kun," he assured in a soothing voice. Spirit looked deep into his Meister's face, hoping to catch a glimpse of the warm, assuring golden eyes, as well. Shinigami complied and raised his head, only to expose the same wide, homicidal eyes of his violent counterpart. His soft, assuring smile twisted into a sick, bloodthirsty grin. "I'll kill you."

Spirit's already wide eyes shrunk in fear. His breath caught in his throat. He couldn't do anything, not run, nor fight. He didn't have the strength. Fear sucked him of his will. Even if he did somehow find the courage to fight fear, he wouldn't last long against a fully powered god, death scythe or no. He was planted there, stuck inside his own fear. Shinigami lowered his twisted face close to Spirit's. "Spirit-kun~" he sang softly. "Spirit-kun~? Spirit-kun~!"

"_**SPIRIT-KUN!"**_

Spirit shot forward, tangling himself in the sheets. He choked and tried to catch his breath, panting hard. He could feel cold sweat on his face and the base of his neck. He glanced up to be met with the worried gaze of the man who tried to kill him.

The death scythe tensed hard and shot back into the corner of his bed, shaking violently. His arm protected his body, ready to transform if necessary. Shinigami cocked his head. "Hey, hey, what's the matter~? It's only little old me~" he assured in his silly voice. He climbed onto the bed and pressed his bare foot against his clothed leg. His pajamas were pitch black, except for the small shinigami mask on the nightshirt pocket. He turned to his scythe, trying to his best to be assuring.

"You had a nightmare. A pretty bad one, it seems, too~! Wanna tell me what it was about?" the god asked.

Spirit frowned. A nightmare? Is that was that was? Now that he thought about it, it made sense. He slowly lowered his arm, but still remained on-guard. "How did you know I was having a nightmare?" he asked, avoiding Shinigami's question. It didn't make a lot of sense; their rooms were separate, so the only way Shinigami would have known is if he had been watching him sleep.

"Your soul was shaking. Really badly, too. I would have ignored it but it was so distressed I couldn't sleep~! Now answer my question please~."

Damn, he wasn't going to give up. Spirit had forgotten about Shinigami's infrequently mentioned Soul Perception. Of course he would have noticed something. It made sense now. Spirit desperately scrambled for a way to change the subject.

"Were you dreaming too?"

Shinigami cocked an eyebrow. "You're trying to change the subject with a master at changing the subject. Answer my question."

"Uh, um…I…I had a nightmare about…Stein dissecting me." Yeah, that was believable.

"Then why were you so afraid of me when you woke up?" …to anyone but Shinigami.

"I, um, thought you were Stein…?" Spirit mentally cursed himself. Why did it sound like a question?

There was a pause. Shinigami stared into Spirit's blue eyes, his face unreadable. Spirit was smiling, trying to make himself believable.

"I don't believe you."

"Ugh!" Spirit groaned, bowing his head in defeat. Shinigami ignored him, repositioning his leg. "Now, want to tell what your dream was _really_ about?" he questioned. Suddenly, his face grew dark, his golden eyes shining menacingly. He grinned. "Or do I have to _force_ you to tell me…?"

Spirit flinched, quickly looking away. Shinigami grimaced, his "scary" façade fading away. Crap, he screwed up! He had meant to do that to lighten the mood, but it only made Spirit more afraid of him. What was his nightmare about? He had to know.

"C'mon, tell," he insisted, prodding Spirit in the shoulder. "Don't keep things from your Meister." He grinned manically and grabbed the crown of Spirit's head, squeezing it. The latter whined in protest. "You wouldn't want to keep things from me, you know," he threatened, a playful but dark tone in his voice. When Spirit remained silent, he sighed and resorted to begging. Getting down on his hands and knees on the floor, he clasped his hands together and gave Spirit a pleading look. "Pwease? Pwease! Tell meeee~!" he begged.

Spirit grimaced lightly. "Well, if you're going to be like that…"

"Yay!" Shinigami resumed his position on the bed, sitting a lot closer to his scythe than he needed to. Spirit stared at his Meister as the latter snuggled against his shoulder, as if expecting a bedtime story. He resisted the urge to smile. _He's a like a child…_

Spirit sighed and began to tell his tale. Throughout the story, Shinigami's eager grin slowly faded into an unreadable frown. When the scythe was finished, Shinigami remained silent. He remained still against Spirit's shoulder, breathing steadily. Spirit considered that perhaps his Meister had fallen asleep, but Shinigami moved away from him just as he was about to say something.

"Sounds like a pretty scary dream~!" Shinigami giggled. "But I wouldn't worry~! A dream is just a dream you know~! Nope, not real~!"

Spirit couldn't help but look skeptical. _That didn't faze you at all,_ he thought, though he knew he was wrong. That silence beforehand told Spirit that the god had taken it seriously and was deeply concerned, despite what he said. _Damn, I made him worry…_

"Yeah, it was just a dream. It's okay now, though," Spirit replied, smiling an attempt to calm his Meister. It didn't work. Shinigami remained in his place on the bed, appearing to musing deeply about something.

"You want to know what I dream about when I have a nightmare?" he questioned softly, using a voice rarely heard. "They're really scary, you know. It might give you more nightmares!" He giggled quietly.

The death scythe frowned. "What does the god of death dream about?"

Death smiled. "Death."

Before Spirit could say anything, Shinigami moved beside him, leaning against the wall. He brought his knees close to his chest, smiling. "I know it's silly. I think it's silly, too, that I dream about death."

Spirit blinked. "Your death?"

The other giggled. "No. I will welcome my death with open arms. No, I dream of the death of others. I dream about losing people I love. In my dreams, you know, they're all dead. Everyone I know. Asura…Asura killed them all."

There was a short pause before the god continued. "Kiddo-kun is dead. He went insane and died from a cut to his throat. I killed him. He's the only one I killed. The other children, though, they died fighting Asura. Maka-chan is dead. Soul-kun is dead. Black*Star-kun, Tsubaki-chan, Kilik-kun, Ox-kun, Kim-chan. They all died. They weren't powerful enough. _I_ wasn't powerful enough…to protect them. I failed as a headmaster.

"And then, my staff is dead, too. Sid-kun and Nygus-chan, and Marie-chan. Stein-kun. And you, my scythe, Spirit-kun. You're dead, too. I couldn't even protect my own scythe. I failed as a meister, too. No, a partner.

"Their bodies…they're everywhere. They lay everywhere, scattered across my city. My soul. There's only me and Asura left. The gods. Death and madness. Asura just laughs and taunts me. He keeps saying that I'll fall to my weakness. He knows my weakness. He kills other people because he knows my weakness is my love other people. He knows I'll do anything to protect them. So he targets them. Yet, I'm the only one still standing. I don't know why. The world falls to insanity. I've failed as a shinigami. What would Kid think of me now…? But, he's dead, so I guess I don't have to worry about it."

After this, Shinigami fell silent. He slowly turned to Spirit, showing a bright smile on his face. "Like I said; silly, right? Death has nightmares about death? Tee hee! I'm a pretty weird guy~"

Spirit was still shaking inwardly. _Shinigami's nightmares are scarier than mine…than anyone's. _Shinigami slid off Spirit's bed and spun to face him. "Well, it's late. Hope I didn't scare you too much, hee hee! Night night!" he sang, skipping out of the Weapon's room.

The Death Scythe stared after his Meister. He smiled.

"That guy...I'll never understand him."

/

Well, how was that! Sorry for the late update, I was drawing a lot and as such, drew more than wrote. I'm also trying to make a really epic AMV with Shinigami but damn it's harder than it sounds! ;;; He only has two awesome episodes….plus, I'm trying to evolve my AMV making skills. And have a song set to Shinigami that isn't like some hard rock song, lol. So I'm going with rap! XDD;;;

Anyways, if you read my last Spirit/Shinigami oneshot (separate from this oneshot series), it was also about Shinigami's nightmares, sorry about that. I find it kinda fascinating though! Also, I added Spirit's nightmare. Hee hee. And sorry about no song in the last oneshot…I was in a bit of a rush. I really hope this formatting works though! doesn't seem to like my formatting. If it seems off, I'll try to fix it but no promises; I'm really lazy.

If you don't know what song it is in the beginning, you're a horrible Soul Eater fan. If you don't care (or accept this proudly, as scary as that may be), then look up the lyrics.

And now, I need a snack. Yummm…..


	6. Death's Hourglass

_Falling a thousand feet per second__  
__You still take me by surprise_

_And as long as I can feel you holding on__  
__I won't fall even if you said I was wrong_

_I'm not perfect but I keep trying__  
__Cause that's what I said I would do from the start__  
__I am not alive if I'm lonely__  
__So please don't leave__  
__**Was it something I said or was it just my personality**_

"Just do it!"

"No!"

"Take it off!"

"Why?"

"Because I said so, _THAT'S WHY!_"

"Hey, _I'm_ the Meister here and—auuuughhhh!" The bickering of the Weapon and Meister pair could be heard from the hallway of the apartment complex. Inside, the god of death Shinigami clung to the counter while his weapon Spirit pulled tightly on his cloak, one foot on the counter to steady himself. Shinigami strained against the hold, gritting his sharp teeth and clutching onto the (thankfully granite, after a few of Shinigami's…highly dangerous stunts. Spirit was thankful that his Meister was a god) counter for dear life. Or, uh, death.

"Take off the damn cloak!" Spirit growled, his eyes dangerous.

"No!" Shinigami protested. The scythe snarled and gave one last tug, breaking Shinigami's death grip on the counter. The two flew back, tumbling onto the hardwood floor of the entryway. After righting himself and snapping out of his dizziness, he took this opportunity to slip Shinigami's cloak over the dizzy reaper's head. Once Shinigami realized he was now bare from the waist up, he shot a furious glare at his Weapon.

"Why is it that you feel the need to strip me…on a daily basis?" he growled, a hint of amusement seeping into his tone. Spirit glanced at him, nonplussed. "Oh, you big baby. It's not _every day._" He was quickly distracted by something glimmering on a chain around Shinigami's bare neck. Before Shinigami could do anything, he reached for it.

"What's this?" he asked, making a grab for it. Shinigami made a move to clasp it in his hand before Spirit could, but he was too slow. The scythe had already taken it in his hand. Opening his hand slowly, the scythe discovered a small, finely crafted hourglass. The sand trickled down at a very slow rate, and the sand at the top was slightly larger than the sand at the bottom. Spirit turned it over in his hand, inspecting it. On the bottom, he discovered letters carved into the wood. They read _Spirit Jordon Albarn_ in elegant letters. He was shocked. Why was his name on this thing, and what is it, and why is it clasped around his death god Meister's neck?

"What is this thing?" he asked curiously.

Shinigami looked away, flustered. "An hourglass."

"No, really." After living with the Grim Reaper for some time, he had come to know that _not all of Shinigami's things were things mortals could touch._

"…It's an hourglass…with your name on it."

"Yeah. _Why_ is my name on it?"

"Now that's a whole other question entirely."

"Answer them both."

"Why should I?"

"Because Meisters and Weapons-"

"Need to establish a trust." Shinigami sighed, beaten at his own game. "Alright. That hourglass is your lifespan. It's sort of like a 'when the clock strikes twelve' sort of thing. When it runs out…you die. Precise and perfect." Shinigami sighed contently. With death, everything fit into place. He took this opportunity to materialize another cloak on his body.

Spirit gazed at the hourglass-his hourglass- again. The fact sunk into him that _that was his life trickling away._ He mulled this over for a little bit before another thought struck him.

"But wait, why do you have my hourglass chained around your neck?"

The Reaper suddenly flushed, becoming very nervous. "No reason," he replied quickly, looking away.

"No reason my ass. Why?"

Shinigami suddenly turned on the offensive and snatched the hourglass from Spirit's grip, tucking it back into his cloak. "Kid has Lizzie-chan and Patty-chan's so why can't I have _my_ Weapon's?" he demanded angrily, standing up and storming off.

Wow. How slashy and subtexty was THIS oneshot? AHAHAHA. Well, I personally think Shinigami should have more "I am a Death God" moments. You know. Like actually doing something HAVING TO DO WITH DEATH. He should really have more, considering the fact that he's an anthropomorphic personification OF IT. But so far, he's only badass. Le sigh. (Speaking of le sigh, tomorrow I start school! Which means Honors French with a nasty old lady. _Le sigh indeed._)

Song is "Perfect" by Hedley. That song so describes my life. And maybe Shini/Spirit's relationship. But not particularly this oneshot. LE BIGGER SIGH.


	7. No Pain, No Gain

_For a minute, she's stuck spinning in it__  
__Still, it's better to lose hope than dying in it__  
__Off track, impact, slam!__  
__She's lying in it_

_You said nothing in this world could ever__  
__Make you feel better than I do_

_So hold on just a little longer__  
__When you don't feel that you belong_

_**All I want is a chance to fall into you**_

As a Death Scythe, Spirit was on the wrong end of quite a beating.

That is, from his Meister.

Little did people know, Shinigami still housed his old temper under his newfound happiness. This was mostly evident in the form of the famous Shinigami Chop, but, being with Shinigami for so long, Spirit received many other forms of pounding from the god of death.

Along with being chopped, he had been punched, kicked, stomped on, pulled by the ear, dragged by the scuff of his jacket, falcon punched, tripped, tackled, dunked into a bucket of ice water, pounded on, and basically every other form of violence that was possible. All done in a small fraction of Shinigami's real power, of course. The only time Shinigami had used more than just a small tap in his eyes was one time that definitely crossed the moral line.

Spirit had taken Shinigami to a bar to cheer him up after the Kishin escaped. Worst. Mistake. Ever. Spirit had ended up intoxicated, groping all the women in the bar while Shinigami closed his fist too tightly around his glass and shattered it. It was pretty much the usual, until…

Really, it wasn't Spirit's fault. Not only was he intoxicated and therefore had the vision of such a person, but the bar was dark and Shinigami's thin, seemingly delicate body…well, who wouldn't mistake him as a woman? Spirit certainly did. He could even remember the conversation now, as he stumbled up to his Meister.

"_Ready to go?" Shinigami growled out through gritted teeth, his hands shaking in a thinly veiled attempt to restrain from strangling his Weapon._

"_Ooh, feisty, aren't we? I haven't even gotten to know you!" Spirit giggled._

"_Huh? Spirit-kun, you've known me all your life…"_

"_So, you're famous huh? Well, I'll let you in a secret then." He leaned in closely to Shinigami's ear and whispered, "I'm Shinigami's scythe."_

"_Yeah. I know." The reaper raised a eyebrow, puzzled._

"_Oh, so you must know how good I am in bed."_

"_Heh?" Shinigami tried to scramble away, but Spirit was faster. A hand on his chest effectively made him freeze. A deep blush spread over his cheeks. "Um, Spirit-kun?"_

"_You're not very endowed, are you? Well, that's all right. I'll manage." Spirit was leaning more and more towards Shinigami's blushing, shocked face. _

"_S-Spirit-kun, w-what are you…" Shinigami managed to choke out before his lips were captured in Spirit's own. The reaper's golden eyes widened and his blush grew redder. He broke apart from Spirit._

_Then he cocked his fist back with an expression of pure fury on his face. He threw his fist forward, unleashing a full blown Shinigami Punch and causing Spirit to fly across the room, crash through the plaster wall, and smash into the wall of a neighboring building._

Not only did Spirit have to have his jawbone surgically repaired _(courtesy of Stein)_, Shinigami also refused to speak or make eye contact with him for a week. This, considering Shinigami, felt more like three months for the apologetic Weapon.

Retribution from the death god usually followed whatever act of stupidity Spirit committed in front of him. Considering Spirit was only human and, as such, made a lot of mistakes, this was _a lot. _This included but was not limited to: ogling after a woman, reading dirty magazines (especially in the Death Room), obsessing over Maka, obsessing over little girls who had the slightest similarities with Maka, insulting Soul, insulting any of the male students who so much as look at Maka, saying something stupid or perverted, acting perverted, trying to use Shinigami's Death Mirror for purposes other than what Shinigami originally intended, being lazy, or basically doing anything that would irritate the lord of death. Which, considering Spirit, was a lot of the time.

But that was okay.

Seeing Shinigami's bright, cheery grin as Spirit came home, no matter what he did that day…

That made all the pain go away.

/

I don't know how to write drabbles. I should write drabbles sometimes. But then they'd be even shorter than my oneshots. Why am I talking to myself?

Rushed chapter, done in a spurt of inspiration. Song doesn't fit the oneshot and will probably be used again because of how much it relates to these two (at least, imo) and because of one line that I didn't add in there but describes their relationship as well _(I don't mind wasting time with you)_ which will probably be used in another oneshot. Maybe.

Long author's note is long! (And doesn't have any pronouns. Or nouns. Or anything vaguely resembling a complete sentence.) Back to brain-frying Pre-Calc homework.

Song is "Into You" by Zebrahead.


	8. One Day, My World Will Be Bright Again

_Within the spreading darkness, we exchanged vows of revolution__  
__An evil flower that sprouted because it was loved__  
__Because I can't let anyone interfere__  
__With everything that'll come about from now on_

_Why? Am I a broken Messiah?__  
__Everyone dreamt of a "paradise"_

_**Someday, I'll show you**____**a shining world**_

"Huh? Where am I?"

A six year old redhead glanced around, confused. He was in a place he didn't remember. He saw black crosses stuck in the ground everywhere around him and the sky was a bleak black and red. Peering ahead, he saw a boy of about seventeen standing in a clearing with no crosses, save for the two broken ones to his left and right. The boy had messy jet black hair, only set off by three white stripes that circled his crown. He was wearing a short black cloak that frayed out at his hips, and his hand was shoved into the pocket of his black ragged jeans. The redhead waved to him, running into the clearing. As soon as he stepped out of the field of crosses, the black-haired boy looked up, revealing glowing yellow eyes.

"Hey!" the redhead called. Once he got close enough to the other, he stopped short, a big grin on his face. He jabbed a thumb to his chest. "I'm Spirit. What's your name?"

The other boy didn't answer.

Spirit looked around, noticing the broken crosses. He let the boy's silence go in favor of observing the two. He peered at one for a moment before picking up a piece of the cross and trying to place it back where it belonged. At this, the teen spoke.

"It's broken," he stated. His eyes showed the same lack of emotion. "You can't fix it."

"Huh?" Spirit glanced up, blinking in confusion. "Oh, uh, okay. Theeeen…" he trailed off, his eyes sweeping the clearing. He spotted two sticks, a nail, and a hammer, and got an idea. "Then we'll just make another one!" he suggested, running over and picking up the nail and hammer.

The teen walked over to him, gazing over the boy. "But you're just a kid. You can't make a cross."

"Well…I'll try," Spirit replied hesitantly, unsure of himself but willing to take a risk. He set the two sticks down and positioned the nail before beating it with the hammer. The teen simply watched, his deep honey eyes lifeless.

"There!" With great difficulty, Spirit lifted the cross up, preparing to stab it into the ground. The teen suddenly spoke up, causing the scythe to freeze. "Wait!" he cried, alarm evident on his face.

"What?" Spirit grunted through strained breaths. The cross was heavy, much too heavy for his six-year old frame.

"Don't put it there," the boy said, his eyes shifting from panic to emotionless once more. He looked towards the other crosses and nodded. "Put it over there."

"But why?" Spirit asked. He didn't want to take the cross all the way over there. Firstly, it was heavy. He could barely hold it now, much less drag it over there. Secondly, he wanted to put it here so it could be seen. What good is something you made without letting other people see it?

The teen lowered his head, black bangs falling over his face and shadowing his features. "It won't get broken over there."

Spirit shot him a cheeky grin. "But this _can't_ break! It's made 'a really thick sticks! That are really, really heavy too, so d'ya think you can help me?"

The teen frowned, but advanced over to Spirit and hesitantly helped him drive it into the ground. After they were finished, Spirit collapsed on the ground, exhausted. The other collapsed as well, but not out of exhaustion; he merely did so to stare at the cross.

"I don't understand," he spoke, confusion settling deep in his golden eyes. "When will it break?"

"Huh? It _can't_ break!" Spirit protested, checking the cross for sturdiness. "It's made of thick sticks! It won't break!"

"It won't break?" the teen repeated.

"Nope, nuh-uh! It's so thick, it can't break!"

"It won't break…"

A seventeen year old redhead held out his hand, smiling. "It won't break."

The black-haired teen gazed up at him, his golden eyes wide with emotion.

_One day, my world will be bright again._

_Promise me you won't leave me, okay? Never._

/

CHAPTER EIGHT 8D An obligatory Shinigami-centric chapter. This is just overflowing with symbolism, so I'll give you a guide:

Scenery: Shinigami's soulscape. It's based off the scene in the first OP, where it zooms into Shinigami's eye(hole) and you can see that place, along with Spirit transforming.

Crosses: Shinigami's relationships (not romantically XD) with others. He keeps them away from him, at a careful distance, never getting too close. The only close crosses to him are the two broken ones (below). Spirit came into his soulscape (inner world) and built a cross (a friendship).

Broken crosses: Broken friendships. The two broken crosses at Shinigami's sides are Eibon and Asura, who both betrayed him. Shinigami tells Spirit to "put to it over there" (maintain a careful relationship) so it "won't get broken" because he's afraid of opening up only to be betrayed again. Spirit is, of course, too dumb to listen to him.

Sturdy sticks: It's a sort of literal symbol for Spirit's thickness. He's too dumb to betray Shinigami, so the cross won't break (thus, their friendship won't end).

Age: Spirit is six years old because Shinigami is much older and wiser than him, and thus in the beginning, he saw him as just a child. As soon as Shinigami opens up, he sees Spirit as an equal. I made them teenagers, 'cause it really didn't matter what age I made them as long as they were equal and…you know, 17!Shinigami is hot. ;;; (at least in my mind lD)

So yeah. For those who are as blind as I am at seeing those things, or if I didn't explain them right XD;;; I hope people find this heartwarming, cause I meant it to be that way lD Also maybe more people like heartwarming rather than scary (ch 5) or slashy (ch 7). I hope so ;;;

Reviews make my day :] Not that I'm….y'know….forcing you to or anything…*hides knife*

Song is "the WORLD" by Nightmare. HEARTHEARTHEART. Also, I think I'm sooo into UVERworld now (so expect some of their songs to show up, lmao ;;;). I have like, a zillion of their songs. heartheartheart -shotshotshotshot-


	9. Into the Dark

_Love of mine some day you will die__  
__But I'll be close behind_

_If there's no one beside you__  
__When your soul embarks__  
__**Then I'll follow you into the dark**_

_**/**_

Running, running. Spirit had to keep running.

It was empty space. He didn't know where to go or what he would do when he got there, wherever 'there' is. He just knew he had to keep running. Running, running…or what? What happens if he stops running? He doesn't want to know; doesn't _need_ to know. He has no intention of stopping.

Out of nowhere, two doors hinder his path. One is black and the other is white. It doesn't matter to him. He opens the right one.

He runs for a while more before two more doors stop him. He chooses the left one this time, because he feels rebellious today.

There are walls now; white walls that suffocate him. No ceiling, though. The sky is open and inviting, even if it's white like everything else.

The space between the doors gets tighter and tighter. Soon Spirit finds himself nearly breaking down every door with his shoulder. He chooses the opposite one every time, because he is structured but different.

Eventually he breaks through enough doors. He enters a great white space. There is darkness at the end; Spirit can see it clearly. He is drawn to it, for reasons he doesn't know.

He breaks off into a sprint, trying to reach the darkness as fast as he can. He is human, though, and he slows. The darkness is bigger now, but he can't find the energy to keep running. He collapses, reaching for something, someone.

_Maka…_

Why would she come for him? He's screwed up, and she hates him.

_Kami…_

She left a long time ago. Not even she could handle him.

_Stein…_

Stein didn't really care, though. He cared for nothing but science. He wanted to dissect.

_Someone…_

He realized with a bout of despair that no one would come for him. Everyone hated him because he screwed up. He made a mistake, and now no one would come for him. He hated it. He wasn't sure what 'it' was- was it God, who made him this way, or was it himself, who made those decisions? He decides it's himself, but it's too late. He won't reach the darkness now. He is stuck, unable to go back to the light or through the final door of darkness.

"Sp…it…un…"

What? What was that? No one was in here. No one would come for him. Maybe it was someone else. Curious, he opened up the hearing he numbed out.

"Oh, Spirit-kun. Spirit-kuunnn~!"

Sure, Stein had called him "senpai", Maka had called him "Papa", and others called him "Death Scythe", but…

Spirit-kun?

Who addressed him as –kun?

As he surfaced into his feelings, he discovers his body shaking not of its own accord. Someone was shaking him, and it was coming from his shoulder. Suddenly, it stops. Spirit was just about to pass it off as a hallucination when something else happened instead.

"SHIIIIINIGAMI CHOP!"

All of a sudden, he feels a sharp pain on his head. He shoots up, clutching his now aching head. What? Who the hell-?

"It's about time, Spirit-kun!" a high falsetto voice giggles, as if it enjoyed Spirit's pain. "Damn, you only got this far? Tee hee!"

He opens bleary green-blue eyes and blinks as his vision came into focus. Kneeling down in front of him was the God of Death, Shinigami, in all his high falsetto silly maskless glory. He was grinning from ear to ear as his hand breathed a puff of smoke.

"Sh-Shinigami-…sama?" Was it hallucination?

"Who d'jya think it was? Santa Claus?" Before Spirit could even think, Shinigami hastily growled, "Not. A Word. About. My age."

Spirit just kept staring at him blankly. Shinigami blankly stared back. Eventually, the reaper snapped out of it, grasping Spirit by the hand and pulling him off the ground. "Well, c'mon! We got a long way to go!"

And the Meister and Weapon walked together into the dark.

/

Remember the last oneshot was Shinigami-centric? This one is Spirit-centric. I'm sorry, I can't write Spirit as well I can write Shinigami ._.;;; The beginning was actually inspired by the PV for Miku's "World's End Dancehall". Go watch it! I've been on a Vocaloid kick lately ;D

There's a ton of symbolism in here too, but I won't explain it w;; *is embarrassed* But you can probably tell by the song…..

Speaking of which, the song is "I Will Follow You Into the Dark" by Death Cab for Cutie.

Probably mistakes, but I have to go soon and I wanted to get something out since I haven't done a oneshot in awhile and this had to be done first since it went with the other one and I'm just gonna upload this now w;;;;


	10. The Ultra Super Written Exam

_Teachers treat us all like clones,__  
__Sit up straight, take off your headphones,__  
__I don't blame them, they get paid,__  
__Money, money, whoo, lots of money, money, whoo!_

_**To skip or not to skip? That is the question!**_

/

"It's Super Written Exam time," Shinigami muttered, the pointy spike that replaced his legs swaying in the air as he laid on his stomach on the floor of the Death Room. His huge gloved hand rested on his mask, his eyeholes lowered in boredom.

"No one calls me since there's no missions scheduled. Everyone is too busy studying." The spike wiggled. "And Kiddo-kun, who doesn't need to study anyway since I taught him everything I know, doesn't talk to me…his own father…" He sniffed sadly.

He folded his arms and rested his head on them, lying on the floor in silence. The spike swayed back and forth lazily. After a long pause, Shinigami muttered, "I'm bored."

Suddenly, his eyeholes snapped open and he shot up. "And now I'm talking to myself!" he realized with a jolt of despair. Indeed, he was; there was no other living being inside the Death Room besides the reaper. He fell onto his back, a depressed look crossing his mask. He let out a high-pitched sigh.

"Maybe I'll go see what Spirit-kun is doing later."

/

Shinigami had always found it interesting how diverse Shibusen was. There were great Meisters like Black*Star, great students like Ox, and total losers like Hiro. Each one of his students was unique; they each had a different view of how to see the world, unlike adults. Children were always more interesting than adults to the reaper. Adults all acted the same, but children…they were free to act as they wished.

There was Maka, who was studying until her brain fried (just like her mother, the sweet girl) and Soul, who was writing down the answers on his clothes (Shinigami was so proud of him; his little future Death Scythe preferred to play smart). Black*Star was doing push-ups while staring at his book (like he would pass anyway) while Tsubaki (she was smart, but not as smart as Maka or Kid) was quizzing him. And his little boy, Kid, was drawing a picture of Liz (he didn't catch the whole conversation, but the reaper caught the words 'eyebrows' and 'evenly') while his daughters were reading magazines (Liz) or sleeping (Patty). Not that it mattered to him; Kid would get first place because he knew everything on the test. As for Liz and Patty…well, Shinigami just took it as a good thing that they had their books on the desk in an attempt to study.

He was walking down the street, disguised in his human form, deciding to look for Spirit on his own without using Soul Perception. It was more fun that way, like a game of Hide-and-Seek. He walked down an alleyway past Maka and Soul's apartment building when a flicker of light passed his vision. He looked up, curious, and screwed up his face in disbelief.

There was his scythe, _his Death Scythe_, one of whom had high authority and reputation not only in Death City, but everywhere in the world, and the strongest Weapon on the planet…doing what seemed like a ritual dance around a makeshift fire with candles that he probably stole from Shibusen tied around his head.

Instantly, Spirit froze, his back turned to the god. He turned around with a sour look on his face. "What?" he asked blankly.

Shinigami stared at him for a moment. "What are you doing?"

Spirit blinked. "I'm performing a ritual so Maka will get the top score on the exam. Need something?"

Shinigami continued to gaze at his Weapon before shaking his head. "No, no, don't mind me," he replied, still shell-shocked. Spirit nodded and continued his dance around the fire, murmuring, "Maka, Maka, Maka, Maka, my Maka will get first place, she will, she will, Maka, Maka, Maka, Maka!"

The reaper sat down, his legs crossed, staring up at Spirit as he watched him dance. He sat in silence, just enjoying the entertainment. He noticed something on fire next to Spirit's makeshift flames.

"…You lit the bucket that Maka-chan threw at you on fire?"

Spirit ignored him.

Suddenly, a piercing cry cut through the air. The two jolted.

"What was that?" Spirit demanded, blinking.

"It sounded like the scream of a little girl," Shinigami replied, opening his Soul Perception. It looked like there was someone in Stein's lab…oh.

"What's that smirk for?"

"Oh, nothing~"

Eventually, Spirit grew tired. He rested alongside the apartment complex as Shinigami rested on the other, the two staring at each other across the alley.

"So, do you plan on coming home anytime soon?" Shinigami asked.

Spirit shook his head. "No, I'm going to do this all night."

Shinigami stared at him blankly. "What a devoted father."

"What about you?" Spirit shot back, unimpressed. "You want Kid to do well, right?"

"Yeah yeah, but unlike you, I don't have to worry about Kid-kun. You see, I taught him everything in that book when he was young. Since he's a shinigami, he has to know all that stuff. Maka-chan doesn't stand a chance," he teased, a sly smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Spirit huffed, looking away.

Shinigami frowned. He dug around in his cloak and extracted a white box, which he pushed in front of Spirit. The scythe looked at him questioningly.

"It's dinner," Shinigami explained exasperatedly, raising an eyebrow. "You haven't eaten yet, right? Even Death Scythes need to eat~"

Spirit took the box hesitantly and took out the chopsticks, slowly beginning to eat. Shinigami watched his every move with a bored but curious expression, which slightly unnerved the scythe. He decided to get Shinigami talking to make the moment less awkward.

"Aren't you going to eat?"

"For shinigami, eating is a luxury, not a necessity."

Spirit stared at him.

"That means I don't _need_ to eat, I just _like_ to," Shinigami explained, his mouth twitching into a grin. His death scythe was an idiot.

Spirit blinked. "Oh. So…why did you come looking for me? You would have known where I was with Soul Perception, right?"

Shinigami looked away apathetically. "I was bored."

The Weapon smirked. "And lonely."

The reaper pouted, blushing. "I wasn't _lonely_."

"Yes, you were."

"No, I wasn't!"

"Yes you were."

"N-"

"Shi~niga~mi's lone~ly~"

"No I'm not! Shut up!"

"Shi~niga~mi's lone~ly~"

"Your singing sucks!"

"Shi~niga~mi's lone~-"

_BAM!_

"Oh, shut up before I give you a Shinigami Chop!"

The two stared at each other, Spirit with a smirk (which was a little less convincing considering the blood flowing down his face) and Shinigami with a scowl (and a smoking hand).

"Lone~ly."

"Bastard."

/

"You'll have sixty minutes. Keep your eyes on your own paper."

Tensions were high and thick. Maka nodded to herself, convinced of her victory. Soul smirked, laying on his answers. Tsubaki was attempting to keep herself focused on something other than her Meister, who was battered and bloodied and hung on the chalkboard. Kid stared at his test blankly, while Liz twisted a stand of her hair in anxiety and Patty hummed a random song, daydreaming.

And then there were Spirit and Shinigami, who were staring at the mirror with wide smirks on their faces.

_There's no way my Maka's going to lose. She'll get first place, just like her mother,_ Spirit thought, stealing a smug glance at his Meister.

_Kiddo's a shoo-in for first place. This stuff they're learning is basic shinigami knowledge! Plus, he's a total perfectionist, just like his old man~ There's no way he could get anything less than a perfect paper,_ Shinigami thought, his smirk widening.

"Start writing!"

"It's begun~!" Shinigami said excitedly.

The race against time started. Students filled in answers with sweat on their brow. Maka looked fairly composed, while Soul was smirking so hard his mouth might stretch permanently. Shinigami grinned; while Kid was likely going to get first place, Soul would get a high score too. Unlike a certain other someone….Shinigami still grimaced when he remembered _Spirit's_ exam scores. What the hell what he was doing when he was supposed to be studying anyway? No, forget that, he didn't want to know.

Soul sneezed.

"Are you sure this is everything you have?" Sid asked.

"What? You want me to take off my underwear, too?"

Spirit smirked. Shinigami's eye twitched.

"Hah! That's what you get for cheating you little-"

_BAM!_

"I don't think you should be talking, Spirit-kun."

"Ten minutes left!"

Shinigami and Spirit pushed on each other to get a closer look at the Crescent Moon classroom. They all look all right, except that Patty made her test into a giraffe and Kid was crying. Wait, Kid was crying? Shinigami shoved his scythe out of the way and listened intently, his ear pressed against the glass.

"I'm useless garbage," Kid was whimpering. "I'm a horrible, disgusting person who doesn't deserve to live another day." Even though he knew Kid was being overdramatic, it still broke the older reaper's heart. He had an overwhelming urge to burst in and give Kid a huge hug. But it would be uncool, and Kid would hate him for it. The pains of being a parent…

In his parental fantasy, he didn't notice someone entering the Death Room, nor did he hear the monotone voice of a sadistic doctor; "What are you two doing? Your faces are pressed against the glass. Oh, you're watching the exam, huh…"

And he didn't hear Spirit telling him to shush and let Maka concentrate.

Suddenly, the reaper heard the sound of a paper ripping. He shut his eyes. _Please let it not be Kid's, please let it not be Kid's…_

"GAHHHHHH!"

It was Kid's.

Not only did he scream (like a girl), but he also spat out a quart of blood and then fainted symmetrically.

Shinigami twitched. The next moment, he was huddled on the edge of the Death Room platform, his spike sagging dejectedly as he drew circles on the pristine metal. "Where did I go wrong?" he mumbled. "Was I not a good father? Is it my fault he turned out like that?"

Stein blinked. "What's wrong with him?"

"Aw, he's just upset 'cause Kid fainted and now there's no competition for my Maka!" Spirit sang, grinning as he stared at the mirror, watching Black*Star as he wrote his signature in blood.

"What good is your stupid autograph?" Soul yelled as he snapped his pencil in half, earning a rocket to the head by Sid.

"You choose; be quiet or die!"

Five seconds left. Soul was frantically trying to answer a question, Maka was feeling confident about her test, Tsubaki was looking hers over, Liz was reaching for Ox's stray hair, Patty was just about to break her test's neck, Kid was still passed out…and Shinigami was still sulking in the corner while Stein and Spirit watched his mirror.

A buzz rang through the room. "Test is over!"

"Victory!" Liz declared, holding Ox's stray hair.

"Victory!" Patty declared as well, holding her broken giraffe's neck.

Soul went numb.

/

"HAH!" Spirit yelled as he pointed at his daughter's name on the scoring list. "I _knew_ my Maka would get first place! I knew it!"

"There's no need to rub it in," Shinigami mumbled, staring sadly at his son's name on the "Unmentionable" list alongside Black*Star's.

Spirit straightened, his hand in his pocket, and turned to his Meister. "I'm going to Chupa Cabra's to celebrate. Don't wait up for me."

"Whatever," the reaper grumbled, shoving his hands in his pants pocket and slouching. Spirit smirked at the pathetic sight and left. Growling in irritation, Shinigami glared at the names on the list.

Well…at least Liz's slightly-more-than-abysmal test score made a smile tug at his mouth. Considering she had no formal education before coming to Shibusen, Shinigami was proud of her. She still failed, but then again, so did his perfect, well-taught son. Patty, with her attention span, crafted a fairly well-made giraffe, too. She amazed the staff so much she got two points for creativity.

As angry as he was with Kid, he knew he couldn't blame him. At Kid's age, Shinigami would probably have done the same thing. Kid having OCD was Shinigami's own fault, and who was he to blame the boy? He was truly only angry at that fact that Spirit had something to brag about for the next month.

Shinigami smiled. Maybe he'd take his failing children out for ice cream…

/

I…really don't have anything to say about this chapter, except for at the Super Written Exam test episode, everyone at Shibusen was featured except for poor Shinigami-sama (except at the end for a little bit in the manga). Like, what the hell was he doing in his Death Room? He must have been so bored…thus, this oneshot was born! Hehe, and I've always wanted to see his reaction when he sees Kid fail XD

Song is "Billy S." by Skye Sweetnam.


	11. txting

_Less than three__is just a tease_

_Show me what ya got__on my LCD_

_You've got to be__textually active__if you wanna__be mine_

_**This is how we live it up!**____**I just don't give a fuck!**_

_/_

_From: Shinigami (42-42-564)_

hey u there?

_Apr 5, 1:47 PM_

_From: Spirit (64-78-425)_

ya

_Apr 5, 1:48 PM_

_From: Shinigami_

wassup~~~?

_Apr 5, 1:48 PM_

_From: Spirit_

wat did the poor tilde ever do to u

_Apr 5, 1:49 PM_

_From: Shinigami_

?

_Apr 5, 1:49 PM_

_From: Spirit_

nvm. wat do u need im busy

_Apr 5, 1:50 PM_

_From: Shinigami_

u rnt bsy. tlk 2 me.

_Apr 5, 1:51 PM_

_From: Spirit_

wat, now u hav prejudice against vowels too?

_Apr 5, 1:53 PM_

_From: Shinigami_

?

_Apr 5, 1:53 PM_

_From: Spirit_

nvm. again. srsly, wat do u want

_Apr 5, 1:55 PM_

_From: Shinigami_

tell me a story

_Apr 5, 1:55 PM_

_From: Spirit_

wat? no

_Apr 5, 1:56 PM_

_From: Shinigami_

chop

_Apr 5, 1:56 PM_

_From: Spirit_

ah my day is complete

_Apr 5, 1:57 PM_

_From: Shinigami_

wtf spirit-kun. maybe I should cut back on the chops

_Apr 5, 1:58 PM_

_From: Spirit_

wat? no day is complete w/o a shinigami chop

_Apr 5, 1:59 PM_

_From: Shinigami_

again, wtf…i hav the weirdest weapon

_Apr 5, 1:59 PM_

_From: Spirit_

& i hav the most hyper death god meister ever

_Apr 5, 2:01 PM_

_From: Shinigami_

touche

_Apr 5, 2:01 PM_

_From: Spirit_

do we hav milk?

_Apr 5, 2:35 PM_

_From: Shinigami_

how should i no

_Apr 5, 2:36 PM_

_From: Spirit-kun_

wat do u mean how should u no? ur home right

_Apr 5, 2:37 PM_

_From: Shinigami_

ya

_Apr 5, 2:37 PM_

_From: Spirit_

then get off ur lazy ass and check

_Apr 5, 2:38 PM_

_From: Shinigami_

naw

_Apr 5, 2:38 PM_

_From: Spirit_

wat? y not

_Apr 5, 2:39 PM_

_From: Shinigami_

dun wanna

_Apr 5, 2:40 PM_

_From: Spirit_

i hate u

_Apr 5, 2:40 PM_

_From: Shinigami_

aw i luv u 2 3

_Apr 5, 2:41 PM_

_From: Spirit_

hey wats up? get us kicked out yet?

_Apr 5, 4:23 PM_

_From: Shinigami_

wat do u want? am observing

_Apr 5, 4:24 PM_

_From: Spirit_

u mean stalking?

_Apr 5, 4:25 PM_

_From: Shinigami_

observing

_Apr 5, 4:25 PM_

_From: Spirit_

stalking. who r u "observing" anyway? its saturday

_Apr 5, 4:26 PM_

_From: Shinigami_

observing

_Apr 5, 4:26 PM_

_From: Spirit_

ur avoiding my question

_Apr 5, 4:27 PM_

_From: Shinigami_

…

_Apr 5, 4:27 PM_

_From: Spirit_

…

_Apr 5, 4:28 PM_

_From: Spirit_

shit shinigami plz tell me u dont

_Apr 5, 4:29 PM_

_From: Shinigami_

eh? i don't wat?

_Apr 5, 4:29 PM_

_From: Spirit_

u do, don't u

_Apr 5, 4:30 PM_

_From: Shinigami_

yes? no? it would be easier to answer if i knew wat u were tlking about

_Apr 5, 4:32 PM_

_From: Spirit_

aw u do! no way! thts so creepy

_Apr 5, 4:33 PM_

_From: Shinigami_

spirit-kun i rly hav no idea wat ur talking about

_Apr 5, 4:34 PM_

_From: Spirit_

u spy on ladies in the bath dont u?

_Apr 5, 4:35 PM_

_From: Spirit_

GODDAMMIT SHINIGAMI IT WAS A JOKE YOU DIDN'T NEED TO BEAT ME SENSELESS

_Apr 5, 4:45 PM_

/

I actually "wrote" this a long time ago on vacation XD I thought it'd be a neat idea xD The hardest part was to get Word to stop capitalizing everything…and for the record, I always use proper capitalization and punctuation (well, sometimes) when I text and on Facebook.

All I need to say about this is sorry it's so hard to follow; it was actually harder before I split the texts up separately. Just pay close attention to time because it skips around a lot xD

On another note, The Girl Who Leapt Through Time = awesome. Yes, I FINALLY watched it XD

Song is "Sexting" by Blood on the Dance Floor. DON'T SHOOT ME SLASH POLICE! IT WAS THE ONLY SONG I COULD FIND IN MY ENTIRE LIBRARY THAT HAD TO DO WITH TEXTING! XD And I only used the semi-sexual lyrics ;;;;


	12. This is Halloween, Everybody Scream

_Skeleton Jack might catch you in the back__  
__And scream like a banshee__  
__Make you jump out of your skin__  
__**This is Halloween, everybody scream**__  
__Wont you please make way for a very special guy___

_Our man Jack is King of the pumpkin patch__  
__Everyone hail to the Pumpkin King now_

/

Spirit walked hesitantly into the darkened room, calling out, "Sir, I'm home!" Shutting the door behind him, he looked around the room, feeling a bit off. There was no note on the counter, no explanation to his Meister's absence. His hands reached for the light, hearing the switch click into place.

Suddenly, a fearsome shadow loomed in front of his face. It had a cracked skull for a face and long, gnarled claws for hands. Its entire form swirled and curled around it. It snarled viciously.

"AHHH!" Spirit screamed at the top of his lungs, falling onto his behind and backing into a corner. The shadow started to chuckle before developing into a full laugh. The black claws reached behind the mask as the shadows started to disintegrate. The mask was lifted to reveal the laughing, bright face of the Grim Reaper, sharp teeth curled in a grin.

Spirit scowled. "Hey!"

"Aw, Spirit-kun," the black-haired god giggled, holding his still-gnarled black hands daintily to his grinning mouth, "It's just little old me~"

Spirit stood, smacking his Meister lightly on the arm before huffing and stomping to his room.

"Aw, c'mon, Spirit-kun! All in good fun, right?" Shinigami called after him, rubbing his arm.

The door slammed.

"Oh! Killjoy."

/

Shinigami hummed what sounded like a funeral march, skipping along the pathway to his school. He was in human form, dressed in a stitched lab coat and gray shirt with brown pants, along with glasses and a bolt through his head. He was dressed as none other than Dr. Stein.

Spirit slunk along unhappily. He was dressed in a long black cloak with large white gloves and a skull mask; he dressed as Shinigami for Halloween.

The reaper hummed happily, skipping up to the blonde-haired Meister Hiro. He tapped Hiro on the shoulder, smiling. When the boy turned around, Shinigami's grin grew wide and frightening. He pulled out a dissection knife. "I want to dissect!" he giggled madly, turning his bolt with the other hand.

Hiro screamed and ran off as Shinigami giggled himself to the afterlife. Spirit rolled his eyes and proceeded to the Death Room.

For the rest of the day, Shinigami scared everyone who walked into the Death Room or called his mirror. He even took a trip down to the cafeteria and scared everyone at lunch. Spirit could have sworn the reaper giggled enough to make a small girl cry.

"You're really enjoying yourself, aren't you?" he asked after Kim screamed at the blood pouring out of Shinigami's grin. After cutting off the mirror call, the god licked all the blood off his face and smirked. "I'm the Grim Reaper, aren't I? I get to have a little fun too~"

/

"OW! Watch it!"

"Oh…sorry…"

Shinigami winced as he stepped once more. His ankles burned and ached, and his couldn't feel his toes. He slammed the end of Spirit's handle on the ground, leaning on it heavily.

"You're an idiot! Why didn't you get a bigger pair of shoes?"

"'Cause it didn't hurt back then!" Shinigami groaned as he stepped on the unaided foot. "I'm getting too old for this…"

"Damn right!"

"Shut up!"

"Make me!"

"Oh, I will!"

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah!"

Yellow electric sparks flew around Shinigami's closed hand. Suddenly, electricity engulfed the black scythe as the weapon yelled in agony. Spirit's head shot out of the blade, blood pouring out of his mouth.

"WHAT THE HELL?"

"I warned you!" Shinigami snapped back. "Respect your elders!"

"Oh, so you _are_ old."

Shinigami groaned, his hands on the top of the cross handle of the scythe, supporting all his body weight. His feet hurt, his temper was getting out of control, and he wanted to just go home. He took a deep breath, calming his emotions. Just as he was about to say something, Spirit spoke.

"I'm sorry for calling you old."

Golden eyes blinked. "It's alright. I know it's true, anyway. I'm sorry for sending my wavelength into you," he apologized, blushing in embarrassment. Spirit smiled and linked his hands behind his head. "So, what are we gonna do when we get home? It's only eight."

Shinigami grinned. "I was thinking we watch scary movies and eat leftover candy 'til we puke."

"Sounds like a plan!"

/

"You know, I love scaring people and all, but my _favorite_ part of Halloween is eating all the candy in one night!" Shinigami said, jumping onto the couch with a basket of colorful candy. Spirit sat down next to him, the remote in his hands. He smirked. "Not if I eat it all first," he teased.

The reaper stuck his tongue out at him. "Over your dead body!" he snapped, holding the candy protectively. Spirit relaxed back into the cushions, flicking through the channels lazily. His glance kept flicking over to the reaper, who was watching him guardedly.

"What about this movie?" he asked, a bored expression on his face. When Shinigami's gaze snapped over to the television, Spirit took his chance. He made a grab at the basket, managing to grab a handful before Shinigami whined and tried to get it away from him. When they broke apart, Spirit had a handful of candy to show off, smirking. The god scowled at him.

"Don't think that'll happen again."

"Of course not, sir. Want to watch this movie?"

Shinigami glanced at the T.V. out of the corner of his eye. "_The Exorcist_?Sure, why not."

As the movie progressively got more violent and disturbing, Shinigami yawned. As the Grim Reaper, he had seen a lot of worse things than a simple exorcism ritual. It was a process that humans used to expel "demons" they thought that possessed others. In reality, they were just Kishin eggs at a young age. He stared apathetically at the blood and screams. Suddenly, he felt a pressure on his shoulder.

He blinked, looking down. The redheaded scythe was cowering behind his Meister's arm, shaking wildly. Tears and snot flowed down his face as his teeth clattered together. Shinigami raised an eyebrow.

"Honestly…you live with the Grim Reaper," he reminded the Weapon. Spirit didn't answer, his eyes still locked on the television. Shinigami shook his head, smiling as he patted the other's head comfortingly.

Movies were watched, candy was eaten, and morning came.

The two fell asleep with their heads on each other's shoulders.

/

Ello, hallo! What were you all for Halloween (if you dressed up)? I, myself, personally, was Shinigami-sama XD I made a couple of expressions with his mask with paper and wore them with my cartoon hands and grim reaper costume and my plastic 6 inch scythe XD I kept referring to it as 'Spirit-kun' while me and my friends trick-or-treated…it was awesome XD And my boots didn't fit quite right so yeah, lots of pain. I really don't have anything else to say and I'm already in trouble for staying up so…yeah, here you go!

Song is "This is Halloween" by Marilyn Manson.


	13. Soul Resonance

_I've had just about enough__  
__Of quote, "diamonds in the rough"__  
__Because my backbone is paper thin__  
__Get me out of this cavern__  
__**Or I'll cave in**_

/xxxxx

As Meister and Weapon, Shinigami and Spirit's souls were connected. When one was troubled or in trouble, the other usually knew.

Shinigami was not one to show outward emotions, choosing instead to hide his emotions under his mask. He, however, could not hide the emotions in his soul. One day, Spirit felt the tense and shaking air around his Meister's soul disturbing the peace around his own. Shinigami was extremely tense and on edge because of his constant worrying over his new child. Spirit, a new father himself, could sympathize- he couldn't imagine having to raise Maka by himself, and Kid was already displaying some...tendencies to count and arrange.

Spirit kneeled down by the slumped form of his Meister against his mirror and smiled.

"Hey, Shinigami-sama," Spirit began. "What do you call cheese that's not yours?"

The bone white mask glanced his way with tired black pools. "What?"

Spirit grinned. "Nacho cheese!"

The Reaper remained silent, staring at his Weapon. Spirit, growing more uncomfortable by the minute, was about to dash out of the Death Room when Shinigami suddenly began to chuckle, slowly at first, then gradually getting faster and brighter. Spirit could feel happiness radiate from the core of Shinigami's soul, soft white wisps curling blissfully from the outer edges and wrapping around Spirit's soul like a blanket of pure joy.

When his laughs finally died down, he looked at his scythe, smiling behind the mask. "Thank you, Spirit-kun."

Spirit smiled, relieved his joke worked. "No problem."

/xxxxx

While he would never tell his scythe, very often did Shinigami tune into Spirit's wavelength to check up on him during the day. Just to reassure himself. One day, he was glad he did.

Spirit's soul was frenzied, his wavelength jumping all over the place. Shinigami had difficulties tuning his soul wavelength to match his crazed Weapon's. He was running very fast, away from something. Shinigami extended his range slightly, noticing a few human souls and a Technician soul. The Technician soul was trailing his scythe's soul, the two running through the streets of Death City.

Shinigami sighed.

/xxxxx

Spirit panted hard as he wove through another crowd. Blindly, he turned left, running down a dark alley. His muscles tensed hard, pushing themselves to go faster. Suddenly, he willed his feet to stop, and they did, sliding on the concrete.

He had come to a dead end.

Now that he was here, he wondered why they called it a dead end. Is it because you were dead if you were unfortunate enough to stumble into one? That statement was looking more true by the minute as a burly man advanced on him, his plain white shirt barely containing his bulging muscles. Spirit whimpered, shaking violently as he backed up slowly. The man pounded his fists together, grabbing Spirit by the scruff of his collared shirt and lifting him off the ground.

"You're gonna pay for hittin' on my girl, punk," he spat. Spirit shut his eyes and braced for whatever was to come.

It never came. Instead, the sound of something hard hitting the concrete floated to his ears.

_"Put my scythe down,"_ a demonic sounding voice hissed lowly. Blue eyes snapped open and the redhead forced himself to raise his head to get a better look.

Standing two feet away from the man was the Reaper himself, in his laidback human form, his golden eyes cold as he glared at the former. One of his hands was shoved into his pants pocket lazily. The man was unaffected by either the voice or the look, and he leaned down into the Meister's face and spat, "Yeah? And what if I don't?"

Shinigami, who had closed his eyes to prevent saliva from getting into them, slowly reopened his eyes, glaring at the man with dead golden pools. He smirked, spit gleaming off of the bridge of his face. "I'll do this."

With that, he quickly struck the man in the arm, forcing him to release his hold on Spirit. The scythe fell to the ground, wheezing and gasping for air. Ignoring him, the Reaper delivered a couple of blows to the man's middle and chest, causing him to fall to his knees. Shinigami grasped the man's wrist, bending it behind his back and forcing the man to lie on the ground face first. The god replaced his hand with the heel of his boot, pinning the man's arm to his back with his body weight.

"If you ever touch my scythe again," he snarled, leaning close to the man's ear, _"I'll rip your limbs off. _Clear?"

The man whimpered, nodding his head as much as he could. Shinigami snorted and removed his boot from the man's back, turning and walking over to the redhead on the ground, his boots tapping as he did. He stood above his panting scythe for a moment, eyeing him critically. He kneeled down to Spirit's level.

"Are you hurt?" he asked gruffly, traces of his demonic voice lingering in his tone.

"No," Spirit replied, his hand cupping his shoulder. He closed his eyes in shame. "Shinigami-sama, I'm sor-"

He was cut off by a soft pressure on his head. He opened his eyes and looked up to see Shinigami smiling, the side of his hand pressed against the crown of Spirit's head. "You owe me! You're doing dishes for a week!" he teased as he stood, his voice back to its normal, cheerful tone.

"A week?" Spirit demanded, getting up as well and dusting himself off. "That's not fair!"

"Fine. Seven days."

"Wait, that's not any better!" Spirit snapped as Shinigami stuck his tongue out and pulled his eyelid down in a playful insult.

"Come back here!" the scythe yelled as the two ran off into the city, the sun drooling as it fell asleep behind them.

/

Hai there! I'm sooo sorry for the lack of updates. Trust me, I've been writing a ton, but none of my plot bunnies (or bunnies otherwise) never seem to come out any good. I can't finish most of them and the ones I do finish aren't very good. So I'm gonna try to double update (since it's technically tomorrow here! XD) as a present. FROM ME TO YOU. SO THERE YA GO.

_**Hey, listen!**_** Are YOU an avid fan of **_**harmonize**_**? (I don't know why you would be but...ANYWAYS) I have a bunch of stories that I'd love help finishing with! If you have GoogleDocs it will be **_**tr**__**è**__**s facile**_** (very easy) but if not, that's okay too. If you wanna help me, send me a PM or write a review with your e-mail address (or I could send it to your account I guess...I'm not sure how that works though) and I'll send you some unfinished crap that I'd love help with! ;D (If you'd like, I can also be contacted at my deviantART (xStarxWolfx) or YouTube (StarryKitty94)). Seriously, though, I'd love help! ...you guys? ;;; (Note: No, I don't have a beta but I don't want you to be my beta. Just to bounce some ideas off of, yeah? 8D)**

Song is "Cave In" by Owl City.


	14. A Very Merry Harmonized Christmas

_**A/N: Santa is real in Soul Eater Land! Or, at least, in this oneshot.**_

Shinigami skipped over to Star's computer and glanced at the song opening for the new _harmonize_ oneshot. "Hey, I know this song!" he exclaimed.

Spirit walked over to them and eyed the screen. "Yeah, you and everybody else on the planet."

"I think we should sing it this time!" Shinigami suggested.

"Heh?" Spirit didn't seem pleased about this prospect.

"Let's go, Spirit-kun!"

_Good tidings we bring_

_to you and your kin_

_Good tidings for Christmas_

_and a happy new year_

_We wish you a merry Christmas_

_We wish you a merry Christmas_

_We wish you a merry Christmas_

_**And a happy New Year!**_

/

"Argh! It's so cold!"

"Suck it up. You're my tough, manly Death Scythe, aren't you?"

"I. Hate. You."

"Aww, I love you too, Spirit-kun!"

The weapon and meister duo bickered and argued as they trudged up the snow-covered steps of Shibusen, cardboard boxes piled in their arms. Some jingled as they walked, and others shuffled loudly. His hands full, Shinigami kicked the double doors to his school open as they approached.

Spirit yawned. "It's so early!"

"Well, of course it is...we don't want to decorate with the kids already here," Shinigami informed him dryly. Ripping the tape off a box with his nails, the Reaper lifted roughly three pounds of tinsel on his back and skipped off to the south corridor. Shortly after he turned a corner, his head popped back out.

"Oh! Can you put up the tree?" he asked.

Spirit growled at him in reply. The Reaper only responded with a thumbs-up. "Great! Thanks! And remember, it has to be a really awesome tree!" With that, he disappeared once more. Shaking his fist at the retreating figure, the scythe finally huffed and looked around.

"What's he talking about? We don't have a tree..."

Then it struck him.

"Oh, _hell_ no..."

/

Snarling, the Death Scythe took another swing at the tree. A blade sticking out of his arm, he pounded on the tree trunk mercilessly. After ten or so of these attacks, the trunk finally started to crack. Laughing victoriously, Spirit jumped back as the tree slowly fell, landing on the ground with a thump of breaking branches.

Dragging the tree back into Shibusen, he padded into the main corridor, where the Reaper was standing precariously on a ladder with one foot. Nails in his mouth and tinsel in his arms, Shinigami kept his balance as he strung up the tinsel effortlessly. Hearing the scythe approached, his head whipped around and he smiled at the sight.

"It's not the best, but it's okay," he mumbled through the metal nails in between his lips. Spirit glared at him as he righted the tree with effort. Sliding down the ladder, the Reaper threw a box into the scythe's arms and grinned.

As they decorated the tree together, Spirit smirked. "Hey, is Santa going to visit you tomorrow night?" he teased.

Shinigami lightly brushed his striped bangs out of his eyes and smirked mischievously at his scythe. "Spirit-kun, I have a permanent residence on the naughty list," he replied.

Spirit gave him a doubtful look. "Yeah, right."

"No, really," Shinigami told him, smirking even wider. "I was really naughty when I was younger."

Spirit eyed the Reaper. "Old man."

_Bam!_

"Oww..."

/

Shinigami hummed a Christmas tune as he checked off another name on his list. Biting the pen between his sharp teeth, he eyed the paper on the clipboard. "Looks like I'm almost done!" he said to himself. "Just one more present..." He sighed as he read the name. "And he's the hardest one..."

Taking a long nailed finger, he scratched his temple, pushing the Santa hat that had been glued to his head for the past three weeks ever so slightly. In his ears, loud music blared. He paid no attention to the lyrics, however, as he pressed the barrel of the pen to his pale lips.

He thought hard. What would he want? He was so hard to shop for. And he said he was so easy! Shinigami could think of nothing to get him. Almost as hard as his son. He could remember the conversation with the salesclerk now.

_"Okay, well, what kind of things does he like?"_

_"Hmm...rearranging things, skateboarding, and hanging out with his friends."_

_"Sounds like a very talented child. What gift did you have in mind for him?"_

_"Something symmetrical."_

_The woman gave him an odd look._

_"...Don't ask."_

He sighed again. He would never think of something in time. What was he to do?

Suddenly, something shiny caught his eye. He whirled his head to a lady pushing a shopping cart to his left. He eyed the thing and smiled.

"Yeah, that'd be perfect!"

/

"The bond between meister and weapon," Shinigami murmured to himself amusedly as he extracted a watch from his cloak. Bearing the cross motif of his scythe, the watch ticked along harmlessly. Clutching it in his hand, Shinigami glanced left and right to make sure that Spirit hadn't returned from his break yet. The Death Room was completely quiet, save for the tick-ticking of the watch.

Turning the watch in between his large gloved Reaper hands, he chuckled. "It might be a lame gift now, but you'll thank me later," he whispered to himself. Tightening his grip, he tensed as yellow energy spiked out of his hand and body and into the watch, charging it with his soul wavelength. His cloak swayed in the force made by the energy as his mask was lit up yellow. When he cut off the transfer, the watch sparked with his wavelength.

Shinigami smiled beneath his mask.

"Yeah, I like it."

/

Spirit yawned widely as the two entered their apartment drowsily. "I'm beat!" he complained. "I hate Christmas parties!"

"Mm," Shinigami murmured in agreement.

"Wh- You slept all day- and through the party!"

"Oh...yeah."

"Yeah." Having reached his bedroom door, Spirit turned to the Reaper, a smile on his face. "Merry Christmas, sir."

Shinigami eyed him tiredly. Slowly, his frown turned upwards into a slight, half-hearted smile. "Merry Christmas, Spirit-kun."

He watched as the scythe smiled at him once more and entered his room. Not even bothering to open his door, the Reaper immediately dashed silently into the entryway and quietly exited.

The Reaper dashed out the complex doors and slid onto the snow-covered street, running as fast as he could. Panting, he looked left and right for a nearby mirror. Finding a large glass window, the Reaper skidded to a stop and glanced around to make sure no one was watching. He then kicked off the ground and leapt through the glass, feeling the rush of wind and the pulling on his cloak as he was thrown backwards into the Death Room.

On his knees (he had been a little too hasty when he leapt), he shook his head and darted behind his mirror. He changed into the red clothes there, with fluff on the edges. Dashing in front of the mirror and admiring his new outfit for a moment, the Reaper kicked his platform and watched as it opened up to reveal bulging bags of wrapped gifts. Shinigami grabbed a bag and opened it to see who was on the tag. He then shrugged the bag on his back and turned to his mirror.

He froze.

"Whatcha got there, Santa Claus?" Spirit asked, no tone in his voice. He glared at the Reaper in the mirror's reflection, his arms folded.

"Spirit-kun!" Shinigami greeted, grinning nervously. His eyebrow twitched slightly. "What brings you here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Spirit replied lowly. "Taking over Santa's job?"

Shinigami opened his mouth, but no words came out. Closing his mouth into a frown, he turned away and moved to step into his mirror.

"Wait!" Spirit yelled. Shinigami whirled around fiercely, his eyes aflame and spike curled in fury. "What?" he demanded. "I have to deliver these by sunrise!"

"Why?"

"Because I just _do!_"

"Why! Tell me!"

"Because Santa won't!" Shinigami yelled. "Because he doesn't _come_ to Death City! He doesn't come because of _me!_"

Spirit was speechless. He blinked once, twice. "B-but..."

"I told you I was on the naughty list. When I was younger, I was chasing a witch up in the Arctic. The fight got out of hand...and we ended up in Santa's workshop. There almost was no Christmas that year. But if it wasn't for me, there wouldn't even _be_ a year!" Shinigami growled, gritting his teeth. "Anyway, long story short, I pissed off Santa and now he doesn't come to my city. So I deliver the presents. Have been every year."

Spirit was silent.

"Now that you know my little secret, go away."

"Wait! Let me help."

Shinigami scowled. "Spirit, go back to bed."

"No. C'mon. You can't do it alone."

"I can, and did for the past eight hundred years."

"Yeah, well..." Spirit desperately tried to think of something. He failed. "J-Just let me help!"

"Why?"

Spirit was silent, even though he knew the answer to that question. _Because I don't want you to be alone._

He settled on "Because we're friends."

"Since when?" Shinigami snorted. Spirit was about to take offense, but he relaxed when he saw the playful smirk tugging on the corner of Shinigami's mouth.

"We're friends," Spirit replied loudly over Shinigami's snickers. "and friends don't let friends steal Santa's identity alone."

Shinigami glanced at his scythe, an amused smile on his face. He raised his hands. "All right, Spirit-kun, you got me. If you wanna waste your night breaking and entering people's homes with me, hey, who am I to tell you no?"

Before Spirit could give a victory exclamation, Shinigami grasped the scruff of his jacket. "Hang on!" the Reaper told him. He pushed the scythe forward and into the mirror. The surface rippled as Spirit went through, Shinigami following behind him.

Spirit rolled on the ground roughly, slowing to a stop on a rug in the middle of the room. Shinigami padded over to him, dressed in his Santa outfit. He opened the bag on his back and started to stuff presents in stockings. Spirit looked around and started to munch on a cookie left on a plate. "Where are we?"

"Kim-chan and Jackie-chan's place," Shinigami replied. "Kim-chan wanted a new outfit and Jackie-chan wanted a movie."

"That's a lot more than two presents," Spirit noted, chewing on a ginger cookie. Shinigami looked at him with a smirk and winked. "Well, I like to spoil my students."

As they leapt from house to house, Spirit asked how Shinigami knew what people wanted. The Reaper, in reply, asked him dryly where he thought the letters to Santa went. Smirking, the Reaper added that some wished for intangible things, like love or peace. He didn't know what to do for those, so he got the next best thing, material goods.

After arranging the presents symmetrically at Kid's house, the two leapt onto the apartment complex where Maka and Soul lived. Shinigami forbid his scythe to enter, thinking that he would make too much noise and give them away. Leaving the whining Spirit behind, the Reaper entered through the roof and tiptoed down the stairs as quietly as he could. Leaving presents for all the residents, his final destination was Maka and Soul's apartment.

He walked in through the front door and snuck quietly into the living room. Reaching in the bag, he found that the meister and weapon's presents were the last of the bag. Mentally making a note to get some more, he began to slide the presents under the tree.

Suddenly, he heard the door open. His muscles tensed as he froze. As he heard footsteps, he frantically looked left and right for a place to hide. He dove behind the tree as soft feet padded into the room.

"...Santa?" a girl asked.

_Maka!_ Shinigami coughed slightly, lowering his voice. "Yes?" he asked, his voice cracking due to his normally high-pitched tone. He grimaced slightly as he heard himself, shaking his head crossly.

"Is that really you?" Maka had a slightly more doubtful tone to her voice now. Shinigami scowled.

"Of course, little girl! Ho ho ho!"

"...Santa doesn't sound like that."

"How do you know?" Shinigami immediately snapped before realizing his mistake. He closed his mouth quickly.

"And you're too thin to be Santa!" the meister explained exasperatedly. "You look more like Shinigami-sama."

"I'm not that thin!" In his irritation, Shinigami had reverted back to his normal voice and stuck his head out the tree to glare at the girl. It immediately hit him afterwards.

"Shinigami-sama!" Maka declared, pointing at the blushing, shocked Reaper. Desperately, he tried to change the subject, inspecting his bony arm. "Am I really that thin...?"

"Shinigami-sama!" Maka finally understood that her headmaster was in her apartment dressed as Santa Claus with a bag of gifts on the floor. "Why are you ruining Christmas?"

Shinigami blinked, stunned into silence. "...ruining Christmas?" he repeated slowly, cocking his head. He glanced at the gifts on the floor and thought deeply as to why Maka would assume such a statement. Suddenly, a movie popped into his head, one he watched with Kid when the young shinigami was little. It was about a fuzzy green person who went around in a Santa suit stealing gifts and ruining Christmas. He figured that the scene from the movie was playing out right now. He turned to the scythe meister.

"Wait, Maka-!"

"Don't talk to me," Maka uttered coldly. "Of all people to ruin Christmas. You're just as bad as Papa." With that, he turned and stalked back to her room. Shinigami watched her go, words failing him. His shoulders slumped as the door slammed shut. He dumped the rest of the presents under the tree, ambled sadly out the door and climbed the stairs to the roof.

"What took you so long?" Spirit asked. He saw his Meister's gloomy expression. "...What's wrong?"

"It's nothing," Shinigami sighed. His normally bouncy voice sounded depressed and flat. "Let's go, I need another bag."

/

All the houses hit and all the trees with presents underneath them, the scythe sighed happily and stretched out. "I'm beat," he said tiredly. "I can see why you slept all day."

"Mm," Shinigami replied.

Spirit eyed his meister and grinned, taking him by the thin arm. "Hey babe, you want a lift?" he teased. Shinigami rolled his eyes. "Sure, Rudolph."

Spirit pouted and transformed into a scythe. Catching Spirit, Shinigami straddled the scythe and gripped the handle, feeling his shinigami power flow into the weapon. The two lifted into the air lazily. Shinigami rode the scythe with no expression on his face as he flew over Death City. As they neared their apartment complex, Shinigami leapt off the scythe and opened the doors as Spirit transformed back.

The two stumbled up to their apartment and mumbled "Merry Christmas" to each other. Before they could walk into their rooms, however, Shinigami stopped the other.

"Wait, Spirit. Since it's technically Christmas morning..." He reached into his cloak and extracted a fully wrapped box, handing it to Spirit. "Merry Christmas, Spirit-kun."

Spirit, frowning, took the box and undid the ribbon before ripping the paper off. He extracted a velvet box. He opened it and saw an ornately decorated watch, silver and black, decorated with the same cross motif as his clothes. On the back was the Death family symbol engraved into the silver, a mark of someone in or close to the richest, most powerful family in Death City, if not all of America or even the world. Shinigami always teased him that the wealthy and powerful 'Death family' was actually just him and Kid, but he stopped mentioning it after the silent addition of Liz and Patty.

Spirit looked up to thank him, but the Reaper was gone.

Shinigami yawned loudly as he climbed into bed, falling back on his pillow. As he did so, his head hit something hard and pointy. He whirled around and stared at his pillow confusedly to see a large bulge in it. Wondering why he didn't notice before, the Reaper dug under his pillow and extracted a gift.

"A present...?" The tag read, 'to Shini-kun'.

Recognizing the nickname, Shinigami knew who had gotten him the present. But why? Turning back around and setting the present in the space between his legs, the Reaper stared the ribbon, frowning.

"No one's ever gotten me a gift before."

Suddenly, he smiled, his eyes aglow in yellow.

"Heh. Thank you, Spirit-kun!"

He went to Shibusen the next week sporting white gloves that fit his human hands.

/

A/N: Remember kids, it's not the gift but the thought that counts! XD

Happy holidays everybody! It doesn't matter if you celebrate Christmas, Hanukkah or Kwanza, you'll still get Shinigami Chopped! Especially if you don't review! 8D


	15. Some Ambiguous Mask or Something

_Some ambiguous mask was worn on your face, or something, right?_

_Are the things you showed me until now just complete lies?_

_I wanna see the insufficient heart you'll put on the table._

_Even that diamond that caught my eye should get stolen pretty soon_

**_One pair? Two pair? How about a full house? 'Cause I'll make you show us your hand now._**

* * *

It all happens so fast, the rush of adrenaline in his veins, and suddenly he's storming up to the Death Room like it's nobody's business. He stomps up the stairs and looms over the most powerful man in existence as if he were a small child who had stolen cookies during snack time. The Reaper blinks, turns from his steaming cup of tea, cranes to meet his Death Scythe's fire-caught eyes. There's a blank, questioning look on his face, as if he's wondering if maybe Spirit wasn't right in the head anymore, that maybe he shouldn't be around Stein so much, after all, he _is_ the Death Scythe, and he's very important (but something tugs at the back of his head, maybe he's just being selfish, and after all, Spirit-kun was only important _to him_).

"What are you going to do with Stein?" the redhead demands, narrowing his eyes in a hard glare. He's expecting his ever-elusive meister to take a long sip of his tea, tell his trusted weapon that he didn't know what he was talking about, play dumb and change the subject, just like he always does, because nothing ever changed with him, because he's been the same for as long as the demon scythe can remember.

Instead, Shinigami smirks.

He smirks. _Smirks._ Since when does Shinigami-sama _smirk_? When, in his entire life, has he ever seen Shinigami smirk? Granted, he's only been able to see the god's real face (and it wasn't actually real, but Shinigami is adamant about the whole 'not seeing his true form, _never_ seeing his true form' sort of thing) for a couple of years, but that doesn't change the fact that he's _smirking_. And it wasn't only that that threw the scythe for a rollercoaster amount of loops. Those blurry, golden eyes had sharpened in that fraction of a second, staring at the scythe with a focus he's never seen before. They weren't that unclear haze or glazed over like they usually were, the picture of feigned innocence and ignorance, and of course Spirit always _knew_ he had been faking, but the point is he's never seen his meister _not faking_, and he remembers that the naive act that the Reaper puts up on a daily basis is just that, an act. He realizes he's never seen this very real side of his meister, and that's what Shinigami is all about- when you think you have him figured out, you find out a whole other part to him entirely, and some he may or may not be proud of, but that's beside the point (everyone's got a dark secret, and it really didn't matter that the Reaper's was a little bit darker than most, because he's doing all of this good stuff to erase the bad stuff).

And now, here he is, a very different looking Reaper staring at him with amusement, and it's probably because of Spirit's actions (has he ever challenged the Lord of Death like that?) or maybe because Spirit will hate him for whatever he will do to the mad scientist, or maybe love him, or maybe- well, Spirit doesn't really know why the Reaper is smirking, because Shinigami, well, he's kind of a mixed bag of mystery and eccentricity already, and _God would it kill him to _not_ be so mysterious and cryptic all the time?_

So there he is, jaw to the floor and thinking, _what changed?_ Then he remembers, it's really not a change, rather peeling off a layer of fake skin- wasn't that was Stein mumbled about all the time nowadays? This isn't a _change_ in his meister, it's just a _hidden layer_. And thinking about that makes Spirit think about how many have actually seen this layer, and okay, he may be smug about the fact that _he_ gets to see Shinigami smirk and nobody else, not even the Reaper's precious son, who takes after his father in more ways than the boy realizes, because very time Spirit looks at him, he can see the Reaper in his frown, in his smile, in those dull golden eyes that Shinigami prides himself so much on, even though Spirit knows they change color, because he notices.

Spirit doesn't know how long he's been staring in shock- minutes, hours, days? No, it's really only been a half a second, maybe a half more, all he knows is that it was just a moment, a breath- before something shifts in his meister's gold eyes. There's no longer that smug smirk or sharp eyes or teasing expression, and maybe it was realization or shock, like the Reaper finally caught himself, like he hadn't meant to look somewhat intimidating, like he hadn't dropped the whole daft facade for a moment and showed his true colors. Or maybe it was something else entirely, but Spirit doesn't have the chance to read it properly (he's really very good at that, but with Shinigami it was difficult, everything about Shinigami was difficult) before the god's whole expression blurs and dims again. His eyes soften, and the haze is back, like he's constantly under a spell (like hell, his meister would never _ever_ let that happen, ever, he's way too proud and stubborn) and his vision so bleary and unfocused, and he looks like he's either constantly distracted or his mind is totally blank, unable to even focus on one thing, let alone many.

The smirk is gone, too, so is the frown, and Spirit misses those already- not because he likes the circumstances upon which they appear, but because he doesn't get to see them very much, because to Spirit it makes the Reaper seem all the more human, not just a smiling artificial doll. On his lips isn't one of those beaming smiles that Shinigami has whenever guests arrive, it's really one of his default expressions, a curious line across his face. It's not really a frown or a smile, just a line because he needs a mouth, right?

Then his mouth curls, but it isn't the smirk Spirit is hoping for. It's a smile, a smile so fake that it almost sickens the scythe to look at. Why the hell was Shinigami so intent on wearing a mask all the time? What was wrong with letting people in once in a while? His meister wasn't too fond of that whole idea, and that frustrated the scythe to almost no end. For a moment, he considered kneeling down, taking the Reaper by the shoulders, and shaking him, ungracefully yelling _stop smiling so fake you bastard! Let me in!_ Though friendly and nice, he was always so distant towards everyone, kept everyone out, and suddenly the redhead remembers his meister's soulscape, the environment deep within his soul that defined him as a person. The boy- no, teen, was it? Why was Shinigami a teenager in his soul?- was always so afraid, a fear that rivaled Asura's, one he couldn't quite get over no matter how hard he tried.

He was afraid of betrayal.

Which was totally unnecessary, Spirit scoffs internally, because really, he's the most loyal Death Scythe a Reaper could ask for, and also they were partners, but other than maybe spending more time around him, the Reaper hadn't changed at all for him. Spirit's teeth sit on edge, and he's angry, but at the same time he's sad. He was so used to knowing everything about everyone, and not just in gossip, but how they acted and the reasons behind their actions. He was so close to them all, he could understand every one of them. But not Shinigami. No, he would _never_ understand Shinigami.

"Don't worry so much about it, Spirit-kun!" the death god's high-pitched, nasally voice snaps Spirit out of his enraged reverie, if only for the scythe to continue to glare at him. The Reaper waves his hand nonchalantly, waving all the stress and anger and Spirit's negative emotions away, because _it's completely killing the ambience_, and, well, he'd just rather not think about depressing things at the moment, because Spirit was here with him. Angry, yes, but he was here.

Only he really wished Spirit would stop scowling. It just didn't suit him at all.

He grins and takes a sip of his now cooled tea. Warm and sweet, just like he liked it. Spirit always liked it bitter, and Shinigami won't say because it's the closest thing to the "strong stuff" as he's ever going to get while drinking tea, because then Spirit would be mad at him and, well, Death Scythe was his only company during the day, so he had to keep him at least amicable enough to talk to the poor, lonely Lord of Death.

Unfortunately, it didn't look like he was doing such a great job with that.

"So you really aren't going to tell me, huh?" Death Scythe spits between gritted teeth, and Shinigami doesn't understand why he's so upset, because really, when has he ever _not_ shown mercy, given little Shinigami Chops as punishment for something severe, let people off the hook again and again, and really, Spirit should know, _does know_, but he's too blinded by his rage and insecurity to see it. Were it eight hundred years prior, however...well, Shinigami doesn't want to think about it, won't go back there ever again, and that's what's important, right?

"Nope, don't think so~" He can figure it out for himself.

Spirit throws his hands in the air and a strained, frustrated noise comes from his throat before he spins around and stomps out of the Death Room very unceremoniously. Shinigami waves just to spite him, calling out goodbyes and smiling.

Once the door slams shut, the smile fades and is replaced with a deep scowl. Shinigami glares- he's _not pouting,_ nope- over the top of his teacup, chewing the inside of his cheek until, yeah, there it was, the blood came and left a bitter taste on the Reaper's tongue. He washes it down with tea.

It wasn't that he was _jealous_ of Stein, per say. No, he wasn't jealous at all, but the meeting does stir something inside of him, emotions he's pressed down for so long. Let's see, there was frustration for Spirit's obliviousness, not to mention indignation that Spirit would really think he would do such a thing to the scientist, even if he was close to insanity, but Shinigami only wanted to _help_ by putting him under house arrest. A bit of spite that Spirit was so worried about him

(Stein always had that air of uncontrollability around him, and Shinigami _hated it_- more than anything he'd ever truly hated before. He couldn't deny the fact that he felt like he was slipping, falling, like some sort of ancient shinigami instinct had clawed itself free from the prison of his soul, _he had to control Stein_, and it _would_ come to force, a battle even the greatest meister ever to graduate Shibusen couldn't hope to win- but then he catches himself and it's all smiles again, and Stein only glances at him, unaware of the danger he was constantly in.)

Shinigami sets his teacup down with a frown. It tasted so bitter to him now.

He rests his head on folded arms and sulks, stewing in his own negative emotions. He just _can't be happy_ right now, and he doesn't know why. Why did he feel so...inert, so tired, so sad all of a sudden? The despondency settles on his shoulders and, were he a little more focused, would have made him worried. Right now, though, he could only think about why he was so depressed. He always knew what was going on, what was happening, always, except for now he supposes. Sighing, he twirls a lock of his bangs between his fingers, staring at it as if it would suddenly start talking and telling him the answers.

He's so _bored_. There was nothing to do but maybe watch his students do whatever it is they do when they don't have missions (and really, who schedules missions on a Friday? Well, Maka, but that's beside the point), and he was too unmotivated to do even _that_.

Minutes drag on. Shinigami isn't really sure what time it is, doesn't keep a clock or have a watch (it makes time go even slower, he thinks- after all, a watched pot never boils) so maybe five hours pass, or maybe fifteen minutes, it doesn't matter, time just didn't mean the same to Shinigami anymore- after all, he isn't waiting for anything, doesn't have anywhere important to go, not anymore, anyway.

Suddenly, a noise pierces the silence, and it almost hurts to hear. It takes the Reaper a few seconds to recognize it as his cell phone. He had gotten one a few years in an attempt to stay current (but why bother, really, the times change so much nowadays, humankind is really making leaps and bounds, and Shinigami is proud of them, coming so far with so little to start with. Everything was _handed_ to a shinigami- 'you're now God, here's the world, now make sure it doesn't spontaneously collapse on itself') but at least he could leave the Death Room more often now. _Hmm, I wonder if I should start calling it the DR. Nahhh!_

He flips open the phone curiously, wondering who could be calling him at this hour. It's not a call, it's a text, he quickly corrects himself, and presses 'open' (another thing about these phones, he could really only use them in human form, because his hands in shinigami form are _wayyyy_ too big, and anyways, he has his mirror whenever he was a quirky blob of black shadow).

_hey. sorry about today._ the text reads. _meet up for dinner? i'll pay ;)_

The corner of his mouth quirks in what he guesses is his second smirk of the day as he absentmindedly rubs circles against his now-rumbling stomach.

Well, he _was_ kind of hungry.

* * *

_**A/N:**_ I KNOW I HAVEN'T BEEN UPDATING. I AM SORRY. I've been hating my writing recently and it's causing me to be unmotivated. For this oneshot (as you can probably tell by now it isn't my normal shitty writing but still shitty nonetheless) I changed up my writing style (heavily influenced by a _World Ends With You_ fanfic) so it reads a bit differently. Lots of commas. I'm learning more advanced punctuation and fluency in my English class so hopefully my writing will be better or something. I have the English teacher from hell so it better be better. Except I still use way too goddamn many to-be verbs and basically my English teacher said if we were, there's no hope for us. YAY, I'M A HORRIBLE WRITER.

Song is "Poker Face" by Gumi. Obviously this oneshot was inspired by the manga, when Stein is under a lot of suspicion from the DWMA and everyone is- for some reason- nervous about what Shinigami-sama will do to him. Um.

P.S. PEOPLE. WRITE MORE SHINIGAMI/SPIRIT FANFICS. K? K.


	16. The Aftermath of Failure

_Like who will bring me flowers when it's over?_

_And who will give me comfort when it's cold?_

_I said I'm only human._

* * *

"Spirit! Spirit, wait!"

The redhead bounded up the stairs with all the strength he could manage. He had to hurry. He had to get to the surface. Two sets of feet pounded up the concrete, one chasing after the other. Spirit ignored the other and sprinted as fast as he could.

"What are you rushing for? Soul has Maka. Everyone's okay. There's nothing you can do now."

Spirit lowered and shook his head. Maka was okay...she had her partner. But who would _he_ turn to...?

As he passed rows upon rows of statues and fields of ruin, all he could think of was him_._ He built this place, up from the ground, with his bare hands. It seemed incredibly detailed and exquisite for a place that was supposed to be a huge secret. Just like _he_ would do. Or maybe _he_ still hasn't let go.

"Spirit-"

"Shut up, Stein!" Spirit only wanted him and his unhelpful words to be quiet. He was alone. He didn't have his weapon at his side.

The Death Scythe grit his teeth.

Even if he meant nothing...even if he was only a tool...he'd never leave his side again.

* * *

Laughter.

From the moon, who had obviously picked the wrong night to unleash his most evil, foul snicker. Spirit looked around to see the battlefield- a huge hole spouted out of the cobbled streets, where the kishin had burst forth from his prison. Nearby was a large crater- an attack from above- followed by a few smaller craters. Spirit turned around to see an entire section of the city destroyed, charred to ashes. To his left was a wall, smashed in- someone had slammed into it, someone who either was rather heavy or had slammed into the wall at an alarming rate. Only one question ran through the scythe's mind:

How much of this was his doing, and how much of it was done to him?

He hoped all of the former and none of the latter.

Clenching his fists, the Death Scythe took off in search of him. He wished that he had Soul Perception like his daughter and meister. Then he wouldn't have to worry so greatly. Instead, he settled for yelling his name into the blood-red sky. At this point in the evening, most people either went home or were already evacuated. Still, a few scattered residents shot him glances of pity- pity?- while he ran frantically throughout the city. Eventually, his own name was repeated back to him.

"Spirit-kun?" His voice.

He followed the voice to an empty, puddle-filled street, where a black-haired man was staring at a broken skull mask. His face was turned away from Spirit.

"Shinigami-sama?"

Upon hearing his name, the man turned to look at him. Spirit gasped in horror.

The entire left side of his face was torn off.

"Shinigami-sama!" Spirit ran to his side immediately, fretting over the giant wound on his meister's tired face. Blood, both dried and fresh, adorned his perfect pale face. It stained his hair and drooled down his head, slipping from his face like tears. Spirit didn't really know what to do in terms of healing him. He couldn't exactly wrap it up...perhaps taking him to the infirmary-

"Spirit. Enough." Shinigami's hand clasped over his own, tight in warning but loosening as a moment passed. "It's only a scratch. You know that."

Of course Spirit knew. He knew that this wound must only feel like skinned knees to his meister, the god who has probably had entire limbs ripped from his body without so much of a wince. Spirit knows that his face will grow back. He simply forgot it in his panic. He hangs his head in shame, and not just for his slip in memory.

"Sir, I-"

"I failed, Spirit-kun."

Spirit was lost for words. "What...?" he choked. Shinigami-sama could never fail...Spirit was the one who failed him! Half his meister's _face_ was missing because of Spirit's mistake! All of this and Shinigami blamed _himself_?

"I failed." Shinigami smiled sadly. "He escaped, and I couldn't protect them. I can't protect them now, Spirit-kun, I can't. Not if I can't leave. He'll kill them all." His smile slowly slipped into a crazed grin as he gripped at his hair. "He'll kill them all! He'll kill them and I won't be able to do anything but watch!" His giggles slowly changed into distraught laughter as he stumbled around, bent over in hysterics. Troubled by this, Spirit tried anything to tear his meister from his gory fantasies. He grasped the shorter male by the shoulders and began to shake him. "Sir! Sir!"

Shinigami's laughter died, and he gazed into Spirit's eyes as his own slowly crawled back from madness. They said nothing to each other, but their eyes betrayed the stories their lips refused to tell. Spirit's was guilty, and Shinigami's was scared.

Noticing the exhaustion written on the otherwise terrified face, Spirit finally broke the silence. "...let me carry you home."

"I can-"

"You're tired." Spirit bent to his knees, and Shinigami climbed on his back without a word. Spirit stood, adjusting his rider slightly. His meister was light and easy to carry, which is why on days other than this he normally demanded piggy back rides. Spirit wondered if he would ever look at harmless piggy back rides as childish and fun again. Shinigami buried the missing side of his face in Spirit's collar so that he would be able to see his battle torn home from his one good eye.

He walked through the town, as their apartment was on the other side of Death City. As they walked past the battleground, Shinigami stared forlornly at the blackened ash blemish on his city.

"I couldn't save them."

Spirit was more concerned with the craters and whose was whose.

As they got closer to their home, Spirit could feel Shinigami's heart slowing. His own increased for a moment before he forced to it relax. Shinigami was falling asleep...not dying. Suddenly the weight on his seemed a lot heavier.

Before long, he heard another pair of feet approach them. He shifted Shinigami against his back, prepared to defend and protect his slumbering meister. At the end of the street, a familiar white-haired boy came into view, an even more familiar pig-tailed girl on his back. Soul walked towards the Death Scythe before stopping a few paces in front of him and staring at him with those blood red eyes. Those eyes shifted to the odd cargo on the redhead's own back before looking at him again.

Spirit braced himself for anything- judging against him, calling him out for not doing his job, hell, even attacking Shinigami himself for letting him free. But Soul didn't say a word. He merely nodded in understanding.

Caught off-guard, Spirit nodded back. For a second, the two sworn enemies shared a mutual bond- the care and protection of their meisters.

They parted ways.

* * *

"Hold still, okay?" Spirit ordered, coming after Shinigami's face with a washcloth. Shinigami closed his one good eye out of instinct, effectively blinding himself. He frowned as the wet, cold washcloth grazed his face, rubbing at the sensitive skin there. He forced his eye open to see Spirit's determined face, his tongue stuck out in concentration. The Death Scythe turned to wet the cloth in the bathroom sink, leaving Shinigami to gaze about the already familiar place. He was sitting- in a very dignified way- on the toilet, while Spirit was graced with a chair he had dragged in from the kitchen.

Shinigami thought all of this was entirely unnecessary and completely stupid and why was he being treated like a child anyway? It's not like this is the first time he's been hurt. Still, he might as well amuse his Death Scythe- he didn't have the energy to fight him tonight.

Spirit turned his meister's head towards him by grasping his scalp and forcing him towards him. Spirit frowned as the normally silky black hair crunched in response. "You even got it in your hair..."

"It's all dried now."

So there had been a freely bleeding wound there before. That would explain the rivers of blood that were streaming down Shinigami's face when Spirit found him. None of the cuts on his face would have done that, not even the rather large gash the Reaper now sported on what was left of his cheek and lips thanks to his broken mask.

"Well, I think your hair will have to wait until morning, when you can take a shower," Spirit replied, massaging the cloth into a particularly stubborn blood spot. Shinigami closed his eye again in response to the rough treatment. Unfortunately, he wasn't so adept to being blind, and tried to force his eye open any chance he could get. This caused Spirit to urge him to relax, pushing Shinigami's black bangs up with his free hand to get at the amass of dried blood on his forehead.

While his face was being mercilessly assailed by a killer washcloth, Shinigami watched his vision blur in and out of reality, slipping into blackness. He forced himself awake, jamming open his one eye. He fell asleep a few times, each time jolting himself awake with a gasp.

Spirit laid the wet cloth down and grabbed a dry one, mopping up the Reaper's damp face. Shinigami blinked at him jadedly.

"Okay, okay. Come on, I'll take you to bed." Taking the god's wrist, Spirit pulled him up gently and let him lean on his shoulder for support. He walked down the hall and opened the door to Shinigami's room, leading its owner in and towards the bed. He rested his meister on the pitch black sheets and stood back, suddenly very shy.

"I can sleep in my clothes," Shinigami mumbled through nearly closed lips, answering his silent question. Spirit smiled and pulled the sheets up to Shinigami's neck, giving him a pat on the head before turning to leave.

The Reaper stayed awake to listen to his weapon turn out the light and shut the door.

* * *

A/N: I'm so so sorry for the long update guys :( I kind of fandom-hopped for a while and I didn't have many ideas for this garbage dump. But the new Shinigami/Spirit scenes from the manga renewed my inspiration XD Hey, you know what _else_ would renew my inspiration? If more people wrote Shinigami/Spirit. NO SERIOUSLY. IT DOESN'T EVEN HAVE TO BE SLASH. JUST FRIENDSHIP LIKE I DO. COME ONNNN. ENOUGH WITH THE SOMA ALREADY.

If you were wondering where all the Spirit!angst is, that's next chapter (that is sort of connected to this one but I wanted to separate them because it looked like a nice place to do so). Also the reason Shinigami is so exhausted is because he hasn't fought a good battle for nearly eight hundred years, and also he's not getting any younger, is he? Also I should mention something about Shinigami's human form. When Shinigami looks like that, he's actually manipulating his true body to look like a human, in a kind of A Form You're Comfortable With sort of sense. Thus it takes more energy to be in human form than it does in Reaper form. But he's still doing it because (to him) Spirit seems more comfortable with him when he looks like a human. I'll probably include that in future chapters (including the one where Shinigami reveals himself for the first time, one that I have two different approaches for).

Also I had a hard time picking the song at the beginning so it's one of those things where those lyrics fit but the song doesn't necessarily do. The song by the way is **Flowers for a Ghost by Thriving Ivory. **HAY SONG RECOMMENDATION TIEM ANY1?


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